Losing a Friend
by sayrae3times
Summary: While uncovering the plot of a scientist trying to resurrect historical criminals, Clark is shot and has to fake his death in order to protect his secret. How will Lois react to the death of her best friend? And how can Clark come back from the dead?
1. Losing a Friend

_A/N: Okay guys, I'm trying something new so please bear with me. Although Smallville is my first love, I am also a fan of the Lois & Clark series that came out in 1993. I simply adore both of them but there are certain aspects of each that I like better than the other, if you know what I mean. So I am going to combine them both, taking what I like best from both worlds and see what I can get. This is going to be a re-write of one of my favorite episodes, "That Old Gang Of Mine" from Lois & Clark, with Smallville characters and is a tribute to my love of the Roaring 20s. __**Please Note:**__ in this story Jonathan Kent will still be alive; Clark has been Superman for quite some time, works at the Daily Planet, and is partnered with Lois; Perry is the Editor-n-Chief; and Jimmy Olsen is NOT the same age as Clark and Chloe. There will also be no Lana and no Lex._

_Disclaimer: __Smallville__ and its characters are copyright ©2006 Warner Bros. & DC Comics. __Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman__ and all related characters and elements are trademarks of and © DC Comics. TM and © Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. 2006. This disclaimer goes for all chapters._

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**Losing A Friend**

_Summary: While uncovering the plot of a scientist trying to resurrect historical criminals, Clark is shot and has to fake his death in order to protect his secret._

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**THE CLUB ON HOBBS STREET**

Clark eyed Lois as he followed at her heels, pushing through the crowded club. She had that look in her eye, the one that said there was a story here and she wasn't leaving until she found it.

They had snuck into the illegal gambling club on Hobbs Street, where their source, Bobby Bigmouth, had said that something would be "going down" tonight. Bobby had said that Capone's thugs had been leaning pretty heavily on Georgie Hairdo, the current owner of the club. Lois and Clark were there to try to get more information on Capone and his reincarnated hooligans.

So far, the only information they had was the background check they'd done on the reclusive scientist, Dr. Hamilton. Hamilton was suspected to be the source of it all. He was knee deep in DNA modification and believed he could reconstruct DNA and short-circuit aggressive behavior in humans. He hoped to eliminate all anti-social impulses in man, in essence, creating the perfect being. Criminals, for instance, would have been the perfect specimens to experiment on.

If Hamilton had actually managed to clone the historic criminals, something in his work had to have failed, because reports were going up all over the city that "gangsters" were committing crimes from petty robbery to grand theft auto.

After the bank heist Superman had stopped, the police had an I.D. for at least three famous, and not to mention _dead_, criminals; fingerprints perfectly matching those of the original John Dillinger, Clyde Barrow, and Bonnie Parker.

Police were stumped.

The leader had already made an appearance at The Daily Planet. Jimmy said that he had tried to bribe Perry, and before that, the mayor. It was only a matter of time before the old gangster figured out today's society and what he could and could not do.

Clark's thoughts were interrupted when suddenly the room exploded in gunfire. Instinctively, he lunged for Lois, wrapping his arms protectively around her. He didn't need his x-ray vision to see the men with guns filing into the room.

Had they not been real, standing before them in the flesh, Clark might have laughed. Straight out of the Roaring 20s, the men wore pinstripe suits and fedoras, several of them sporting old-style Tommy guns.

"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, for this little interruption," came a thick, Italian voice. The crowd of gangsters parted for an older man, dressed to the hilt in a pinstripe suit and tie and smiling smugly. Clark knew immediately who he was by the scar that marked his face.

Al Capone, in the flesh once again.

"I just dropped by to inform you that Georgie Hairdo has wisely decided to retire from the hospitality business," he continued. "So from this day forward, this joint is owned by Al Capone."

"Is he serious?" Lois whispered. Gangster or no, people didn't just go around killing their competition and bragging about it. Well, at least out loud. There were too many risks getting caught. Either this guy was overly confident or just plain stupid. _Or from another era completely_, she thought.

Dillinger, a criminal Clark recognized from some of the old news clippings he and Chloe had poured through, stepped out from behind Capone and eyed Lois.

Clark stiffened. He didn't like the way Dillinger was staring at her.

Dillinger reached out a hand and caressed the bare skin above Lois's neckline. Lois flinched, but he didn't stop. "Maybe we can make this little cutie our head hostess," he said, smiling strangely. "I was always partial to a lady in red."

"Leave her alone," Clark said firmly, moving so that his body separated Lois from Dillinger. He pushed the gangster's eager hand away from her.

Dillinger glared at him. It was apparent that the gangster wasn't used to people standing up to him. "Who 'aw you, her big brutha?" he fired back at him, angrily giving Clark a shove that sent him staggering backwards.

Regaining his balance, Clark retaliated, lunging at Dillinger, his only thought to keep the gangster away from Lois.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lois saw Clyde raise his handgun. Before she could warn Clark, or even try to shove him out of the way, Clyde squeezed the trigger.

The bullets hit their mark. Clark froze in mid-step, a look of shock painting his features. Then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and suddenly he wasn't holding himself up anymore. Lois rushed forward to catch him, grabbing him by the shoulders. He fell backward onto the floor, his weight pulling them both down. Three simmering bullet wounds showed through his punctured suit.

For a moment, Lois lost everything – her thoughts, her breath, her heartbeat. Then she found it all again…and whimpered, "Clark…_Noooooo!!_"

Her moist brown eyes gleaming like gemstones, Lois ran her hand through his dark hair. _This isn't happening! This can't be real!_

He wasn't breathing. All danger forgotten, she stared in abject horror at her partner's lifeless body.

_He was protecting me…_

For one heartbreaking instant, she touched his face, his lips; his skin was still warm.

_No! _Lois thought in despair. _He can't be dead! He just can't! _Somehow, she felt her only hope of love and happiness dying with him.

Her unconcealed sorrow went unnoticed by Capone. "You moron," he spat at Clyde, "Wha'd ya do that for? Now we gotta get outta here."

Capone turned to his gang and motioned to one of the younger men. "Joey, pick up the stiff. I can't be linked to a murder," he said casually.

Joey handed his Tommy gun to Bonnie, who took it with an exasperated scowl.

"Nooo…" Lois wailed when another man pushed her aside.

Roughly, the two gangsters grabbed Clark by the arms and lifted him.

"No! No!" Lois cried when Clark was pulled from her. She reached for him, watching helplessly as her partner's body was dragged away.

She hated being helpless. Lois Lane wasn't helpless. Yet there she was, unable to do anything as the men drug Clark out the door, Clyde covering their escape.

"No…no…_Clark…_" she moaned.

The gangsters disappeared and Lois was alone. It didn't matter that she was in a room full of people. She was alone, now and forever, because her partner, her friend, had been stolen from her.

After what seemed like an eternity had passed, Lois felt gentle hands grasp her shoulder and she numbly looked up to find a strange woman bending over her. "They're gone," the woman said.

Yes…they were gone.

He was gone. Like that, he was gone.

"I'm so very sorry," the woman said. Her touch was comforting and Lois found herself falling into the embrace of the stranger.

The woman stroked her hair and allowed her to cry on her shoulder. When Lois had finally calmed, the woman said, "He risked his life for you. That was a very brave thing he did. Was he your husband?"

"No," Lois answered.

"Boyfriend?"

Lois shook her head.

"But you loved him."

Lois froze. _Loved him? _

"He loved you," she continued, as if reading the confused expression on Lois' face, "else he wouldn't have given his life for you."

Fresh tears surfaced. Yes…yes…she loved him. But she'd never told him.

He'd never know…

…ever.

Lois felt her shoulders shake and her body tremble as she cried long after the mobsters had gone. The strange woman stayed with her, but said nothing more. Her presence was comforting and in the strangest way, she reminded Lois of Clark. The chronic do-good attitude that always marked the man; even in the worst situations he was always concerned about others. Here was a woman who had no clue who Lois was, or what she was going through, but she offered of herself freely to comfort the pain of a stranger. It warmed Lois to think that there were more people like Clark in the world. If she'd have just slowed down long enough to realize it, not taken advantage of it.

_He loved you, else he wouldn't have given his life for you._

The injustice of it all! How could she have been so stupid? Why hadn't she told him when she'd had the chance? She always assumed she'd have the chance later, always later. Now he was gone and he wasn't coming back. They never should have come; she never should have insisted that they follow the story. There were always risks in undercover reporting, but she should have known better…these were the most heinous criminals in human history!

Lois stared at the empty floor, where it seemed like only moments ago she'd seen her partner for the last time.

And for the first time in her life, she felt utterly lost and completely defeated.

What would she do now? Who would tell his parents? Who would tell Perry? And Jimmy? What about Chloe?

Lois covered her face with her hands. Soon the police would arrive, and when they did, she'd be questioned, just like every other time she witnessed a crime. But this time Lois wasn't just a witness, she was a victim.

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_A/N:__Also – I've gone back in to add this part b/c I've had a couple people mention that the way emotional Lois isn't realistic. Never fear my friends! This chapter is actually in the middle of the real story and I'm gonna expound on the independence and cunning wit of the intrepid reporter we all know and love leading up to this point. Just bear with me._


	2. Bonnie & Clyde

_Thank you to smallvillegirl92, Gemrosa, katetd369, Angelp316, Tigger101, and winthjo for reviewing my story. I appreciate your feedback! _

_**A/N: **__Just so you guys know, I had no idea what the cars really were, either of them, so I just guessed. Also, for those of you who haven't seen the Lois & Clark series, you'll notice that throughout the story Perry isn't overly ill-tempered and grouchy – that's because in Lois & Clark he didn't get that way until his wife, Alice, left him in a later season. And my interpretation of Jimmy is a little more juvenile than it's supposed to be, but I really wanted to bring out the innocence in the character. Having that said – thanks again guys and I hope you enjoy it!_

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_Two days ago… _

**PERRY'S HOUSE **

Perry pressed the button to open the garage door and laughed when he saw the expression on Jimmy's face. It was a wonder the kid didn't drop the toolbox. He stood, stock still, admiring the classic vintage car that took up the entire left side of Perry's two-car garage. It was positively gorgeous; a work of art from an era just coming to grips with the beginnings of technology. There weren't very many of these beautiful cars in existence anymore.

"Awwwww, man," Jimmy said, his awed expression melting into a grin.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Perry replied. "1934 Plymouth Coupe, fully restored, all leather interior. She's on loan to me for the _Planet_'s anniversary party this weekend."

Jimmy pushed his way past his boss and began running his fingers reverently across the sleek black paint. Although he'd seen these cars in movies, he'd never seen one in real life. "Is this what they used to drive when you were my age, Chief?"

Perry almost choked. He wasn't sure if Jimmy was playing with him or if he was actually serious. "I may have gray hair but that's from my job," he replied, walking around the historic automobile. "I wasn't even born when this car was built."

Jimmy laughed lightly. He'd chosen to wear jeans and a loose T-shirt today, completely opposite of his normal attire, which usually included a pressed button-up shirt and slacks, sometimes with a vest or tie. Perry didn't much like the casual look; made the kid look like…well…a kid. But he had to admit, Jimmy did look a whole lot more at ease today. He looked more his age

Perry himself had dressed down for the lesson today, putting aside the suit and tie for a T-shirt and sweats. Teaching Jimmy how to change the oil in a car was first on his agenda today.

He motioned toward his Toyota Corolla, "Come on, let's get this here done so we can get inside and get out of this heat," he said. "Now Jimmy, open up that tool box and get me a socket wrench."

The confusion on Jimmy's face was evident: he had no clue what Perry had just said. Perry dropped his arms in disbelief. "Jimmy! Don't you know what a socket wrench looks like?"

The kid shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, Chief. I guess I'm better with computers than I am doing handy work."

Perry sighed. He was right. Jimmy Olsen was a whiz with computers. He could hack and crack codes with the best of them, make a computer do practically anything he wanted it to. Taking care of the network at the _Planet_ was just one of Jimmy's many jobs. The kid also had an interest in taking pictures, and often begged Perry to send him out on photography assignments.

Perry didn't know much about Jimmy's background, but from the very start he'd been taken with the energetic young man. He had interned at the _Planet_ while he was still in school and after proving to the editor-in-chief that he was a hard worker, Perry hired him on as a copy boy after graduation.

But their relationship had grown into something more than just boss and employee. Although he'd never admit it to anyone, Perry had taken to Jimmy like a son. It was the same with several of his other employees, namely Lois, Clark, and Chloe. The trio was considerably older than Jimmy, but the kid had landed himself a family when he landed himself a job at the _Planet_.

Still, there was no need to pamper the youngster. "Gimme that," Perry said, snatching the toolbox from Jimmy. He fiddled through the tools until he found the wrench. Holding it up, he shook it in front of him. "This is a socket wrench. Remember that."

Jimmy grinned and attempted to defend himself, "I've used on of those before, I just didn't know what it was called."

"Boy, I'm gonna turn you into a handy man yet," Perry retorted, getting down on the floor and onto his back.

As Perry wiggled into position under the car, Jimmy sat on the ground next to his legs. "Why don't you just take it in?" he asked. "I mean, this just seems like an awful lot of work for something that a professional could do in like five minutes."

Perry's voice was muffled under the car. "That's what's the matter with kids these days," he grumped. "Nobody wants to do it themselves. Nobody wants to get their hands dirty. They just wanna sit in their rooms and play games and listen to…"

Perry's ramblings were cut off by a new voice. "Excuse me?"

Jimmy quickly stood, wiping his hands on his shirt, and regarded the newcomer. He must have walked in while Perry was ranting. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"You sure can," the man said pleasantly. He pointed to the Coupe. "Ya'll got the keys to my car?"

Perry scooted out from under the Corolla and pulled himself to a sitting position. He eyed the stranger; not bothering to hide his irritation, then glanced at Jimmy for an explanation. Jimmy shrugged, signaling Perry he was just as confused. The man who had loaned Perry the car had no family so the stranger could not have been a relative. _What is this? Some kind of practical joke? _"You wanna run that by me again?" Perry asked sternly.

"Oh, it's not that confusing pops. Ya see, this here's my car and I want it back," the stranger said, extending an open hand towards them. "So hand 'em over."

Getting to his feet, Perry scowled. The stranger, a younger man wearing a plain brown suit and button up, collarless shirt, had sharp eyes and thick, dark hair. He wore a cocky smirk, one that said he was either really enjoying his joke or he actually believed what he said.

Perry wanted to wring that smirk right off of his face. "Look son, I don't know what your game is but this car is on loan from a publisher at my newspaper. So why don't you just turn your tail on around and get outta here."

The stranger sighed, bored, and clasped his arms in front of him, seeming to size up Perry. "Newspaper man, huh?" he said. He had a touch of an accent, one that Perry couldn't quite place, but it definitely wasn't from Metropolis.

Seeming to come a conclusion, the man continued, "Yeah, you boys always were gutsy. Bonnie!"

A gun cocked from somewhere outside the garage and a woman stepped out from the shadows; blonde, beautiful, and pointing a Tommy gun right at them.

At the sight of the gun, Jimmy put his hands in the air. Perry stiffened, but didn't move. A Thompson submachine gun had been a common sight during the Prohibition era, but anymore the weapon was only seen in gangster films. Seeing the recognition on Perry's face, the stranger flashed them a handsome smile. "Too bad I never cared much for gutsy."

The woman, Bonnie, cocked her head toward the empty vehicle. "In the car. Both of you."

With a precision that bordered professional, Perry and Jimmy were both frisked and tied to their seats in the Corolla. Bonnie took a moment to run her fingers through Jimmy's tousled hair, seeming to enjoy the anxiety in his eyes when he stared back at her. She was sexy, in that dangerous sort of way, and apparently she knew it by the way she leaned lazily on the hood of the Corolla. Having taken their wallets, she began going through them, flinging pictures and credit cards over her shoulder as she did so and pocketing any cash they had.

Perry was furious. "You two are working up quite a resume," he snapped. "Carjacking, armed robbery, kidnapping. When the feds catch up to you both of you are gonna go away for a long time."

Bonnie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile touching the corners of her lips. "We've already been away a _long _time," she replied.

Beside her, the man scowled indignantly. "Feds? You think I'm afraid of Hoover?"

Jimmy turned to Perry, now thoroughly confused at what was transpiring around him. "What on earth would a vacuum cleaner company want with them?" he whispered.

"Jimmy!" Perry admonished. "J. Edgar Hoover; head of the FBI, 48 years!"

Jimmy frowned. "Never heard of him."

The man turned his attention back to his beautiful partner. "The car ain't got much gas. They got any money?"

Bonnie shrugged. "Not enough. Just some pictures and a bunch of these horrid things." She handed him one of Perry's credit cards. He took it and studied it carefully, turning it over in his hand and examining every inch of the shiny plastic.

"What is it?" he asked, puzzled. He read the insignia, "A gold card?"

_Are they for real? _Perry thought. The man put the corner of the credit card in his mouth and bit down on it, as if testing to see if the card was real gold. "The hell it is," he said, making a face and throwing it on the floor. "I guess we'll just have to get our gas the old fashioned way. We'll steal it."

Bonnie stood and traced the side of the car with her fingers, fixing a vixen's gaze on Jimmy that made him want to squirm. She stopped right at the window and cupped a hand under his chin, lifting it so that she could study his face. "Do we have to kill 'em Clyde?" she asked nonchalantly. "The kid's kinda cute."

"Kill us?" Jimmy squeaked

Annoyed, Clyde batted her hand away from the kid. He pushed past Bonnie and leaned into the car, reaching for the keys in the ignition and turning them so that the car roared to life. He then leaned on the window and smiled cheerily at his two hostages. "Well, boys, I'm gonna take it easy on you today. Just sit back, relax, and breathe deep."

He gave Jimmy a good-natured tap on the shoulder before handing Bonnie the keys to the Coupe. "Pull the car out. I'll meet ya outside."

Bonnie grumped, but complied. She threw one last look at the terrified kid and his older companion. _Such a shame_, she thought. She really did hate killing, but when Clyde set his mind to something there was no convincing him otherwise. _At least it'll be painless._

Once the car was outside, Bonnie slid into the passenger's seat. Clyde always did like to drive and she was sure at least _that _hadn't changed.

Clyde joined her in front of the garage, holding in his hand a little black box, which he studied dubiously. "How's this here little contraption work?"

"Just push the button," Bonnie answered.

He pushed it, and was immediately rewarded with the sound of squealing metal as the garage door began its slow descent. Clyde tossed the little black box into the bushes. "I think I'm gonna like the 21st century," he said.

Inside the garage, Perry and Jimmy froze. _They were closing the door! They really were going to kill them!_

"Chief! Chief! What do we do?" Jimmy cried, panicking.

Perry tried to stay calm, "I don't know Jimmy! Just calm down and let's think this through. Now, can you move?"

Jimmy squirmed in his seat, but the ropes held tight. He shook his head. "No, I can't. What about you?"

Perry jerked in his seat but had no more luck than Jimmy.

With the garage door fully closed, the exhaust from the running Corolla was filling the room. Jimmy had no clue how long it took for a person to die from carbon monoxide poisoning, but he wasn't willing to find out.

He continued to struggle, not fully willing to resign to the painless death set before them just yet. The car bucked and rocked with Jimmy's struggles but his confines didn't budge. Finally, he collapsed in his seat, breathing hard.

"Sorry, Chief," he said through clenched teeth.

"It's all right son," Perry replied. "Save your strength. We'll just have to wait. Maybe Alice will come home early and find us."

Reluctantly, Jimmy settled in his seat, not content but willing to hold on to at least that little thread of hope. He knew Perry's wife had gone to visit family earlier in the day, but he had no idea when she would return.

It wasn't long before a strange exhaustion came over him and soon Jimmy was fighting to stay awake. The heat wasn't helping either. He squirmed uncomfortably and glanced over at the Chief. His boss had his eyes closed and was leaning back against the seat, sweat dripping down the side of his face. For a moment, Jimmy feared the toxic gas had already claimed him.

"Chief? You all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just resting my eyes."

"Just stay with me, Chief. I'm gonna find us a way outta here," Jimmy replied. He looked around the car. There had to be something he could do. _Think Jimmy! Think!_ Lois and Clark were always getting into situations like this and they somehow always managed to find a way out. _What would they do in this situation?_

_Wait_…maybe he was trying too hard. Maybe the answer was right in front of him. Then, the obvious occurred to him. Perry would have programmed the garage door remote into the console above their heads. "Chief! Chief!" Jimmy cried. The realization that there was still a chance of survival sent a surge of adrenaline through him. "The button to open your garage door – which one is it?!"

Perry blinked. "Uh, the first one on the left."

Jimmy jerked against his confines, trying to reach the button with his head. The console was on the roof directly between them. If he could just get to it…

He pulled with all his might, stretching out his body until the ropes that bound him dug into his skin. Normally the pain would have discouraged him from continuing, but not now. Desperation fueled him; if he didn't succeed then they would really be done for.

Suddenly, one of the ropes restricting him to his seat broke, throwing Jimmy off balance and hurtling him forward. At the same time he unintentionally hit the gearshift with his right elbow, he accidentally hit the gas too. The Corolla lurched forward and crashed through the garage door, tearing through the thin metal with a _squeal._

Before he realized what was happening, Jimmy hit the breaks. The car screeched to a halt…

…in the safety of Perry's driveway!

His heart pounding, breathing hard, Perry managed to find his voice. "Great shades of Elvis," he said, "What just happened?"

Jimmy turned his eyes, still wide with disbelief, to his boss. "I told you I'd get us out of there," he said.


	3. One Wild Story

_Thank you to SamwiseAtHeart, Tigger101, and smallvillegirl92 for your reviews on my last chapter. I'm not usually so quick with updating but me and the hubby are actually snowed in today. Hope ya'll are staying cozy out there! _

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**THE DAILY PLANET**

The _Daily Planet_ was bustling with movement, more so today than usual. With the newspaper's anniversary celebration rapidly approaching, the decorating team filed in and out of the elevators, carrying party supplies and banners, adding to the mix of reporters, writers, and other media personnel racing about their usual business. Copy boys and office assistants ran errands from cubicle to cubicle while phones rang, fax machines beeped, and fingers tirelessly hammered keyboards. There were facts to gather, stories to write and deadlines to be met.

A newcomer would find the _Planet_ chaotic, disorganized even, but Clark Kent knew better. He poured himself a cup of coffee, ignoring the pandemonium around him. The _Planet_ had a life of it's own; a life that only a person as passionate and fast-paced as the business itself could even begin to fathom.

Once his cup had been filled, he poured a second cup. "Sugar, Chloe?" he called.

Chloe Sullivan looked up from her desk. Her thin, pretty face was framed by shoulder-length blonde hair and the smile that touched the corners of her lips was warm and genuine. Chloe had been Clark's best friend since high school. She was one of the few people who knew who he truly was, before his life had been transformed by his emerging powers and he had been forced to take on a dual-identity. In a world where he was forced to hide his true self, it was refreshing to have a human confidante to share his burden and he trusted Chloe wholeheartedly with his…_secret_.

Chloe was brilliant, fiercely loyal, tenacious in any purpose, and the sort of person who would throw herself unreservedly into any project until she saw it through to the end. In fact, it was her passion that had sparked his interest in journalism. Her passion for news was unmatched – well, he and Lois could give her a run for her money. But the saying had proved true in their case, "you learn from the best."

"Two please," she called back.

Clark turned to fix her cup when another voice cut in, "Black. Oh and a piece of toast while you're at it."

Clark rolled his eyes. _Lois._

He looked up to see his partner arrive at her desk, take off her coat and plop down in her chair. He fought the urge to smile. Lois was not a big person physically, but she was possessed of so much personality that she seemed a lot more intimidating than she really was. There were only a few people who knew how to get past her tough exterior, and Clark, through some years of experience, was one of them.

He made a face. "Please?"

She didn't even look up. "You're welcome."

Chloe giggled and Clark, grudgingly, plopped some bread into the toaster.

He hadn't always been able to handle Lois. In fact, even now she tried his patience at times. They had met in high school, courtesy of his blonde friend, whom he noted had returned to her work in order to avoid busting out in laughter. More and more Chloe seemed to find their bickering amusing.

Lois had first come to his hometown of Smallville when Chloe had presumably been "murdered." After an interesting first meeting in a cornfield _(long story)_, then at Chloe's supposed gravesite, Lois and Clark reluctantly agreed to work together to try to find the people responsible. However, it hadn't been a smooth partnership; the two went together like oil and water, at odds with each other on a constant basis. Their first real triumph together and possible foreshadowing of their future partnership, was discovering Chloe had actually survived the explosion that had been meant to keep her from testifying against Lionel Luthor and rescuing her from an assassination attempt.

After Lionel Luthor had been put behind bars and Chloe was safe at home, Clark assumed it would be the end of Lois Lane in Smallville. She hated the small town life and had made it a habit to rag on Clark on a daily basis. He ragged right back, never backing down, but his patience was thin when it came to the wiry young woman.

Much to his dismay, Lois ended up staying on. And worse…his mother, being the hospitable woman she always was, invited her stay with them at their farm! Before he knew what had happened, Clark was sleeping on the living room sofa _(an uncomfortable feat for a six-foot-tall-and-still-growing-teenager) _so that Lois could have his room and sharing a bathroom with a woman who had no concept of personal boundaries. She had gotten him into trouble on numerous occasions with his parents by, for instance, barging in and brushing her teeth while he was still in the shower.

But over the years he and Lois had squared away their differences and even learned to work side by side. Clark, although he'd never admit it to anyone but Chloe, actually enjoyed being her partner. She was brilliant, every bit as brilliant as her cousin, adept in every journalistic trait _(except spelling_) and had a mind so sharp that little was lost to her. Her career had advanced far in the few years she'd been in journalism.

She was also beautiful with long, dark hair and sultry brown eyes. Funny that when he was younger he could have cared less how beautiful she was.

Clark was about ready to fire back some quick-witted retort at her when suddenly, Perry White stormed into the room, throwing aside the Planet's glass doors like they weighed nothing. Jimmy Olsen scampered behind him. Both men looked somewhat distraught, disheveled even. Perry looked like he'd been sweating and moreover, the editor-n-chief was wearing _sweats._

"Lois! Clark! In my office now! You too, Chloe!"

Clark shot a look at Lois, who raised her eyebrows in response. Chloe shrugged, indicating she didn't know the purpose of their sudden appearance, either. "Don't look at me," she said, "It's supposed to be their day off."

Putting down their coffee, Clark followed both Lois and Chloe into Perry's office.

"What's up, Chief?" Lois asked, getting right to the point as Clark closed the door behind them.

Jimmy rushed forward, raising his hands excitedly. "C.K! You are never gonna believe what happened to us this morning! We were almost killed!" he cried, then added breathlessly, "I saved us…"

Clark screwed up his face. "What?"

Perry waved at Jimmy to calm him down. "The kid's leaving out some of the details but the bottom line is we were carjacked at my house this morning."

"Are you guys all right?" Chloe asked, concern washing her features.

Perry pulled out his chair but didn't sit down. "Yeah, we're fine, but they got away with that vintage car we were gonna use for the party this weekend."

Jimmy excitedly pulled on Clark's arm, desperate for his attention. "Lemme tell you how I saved us. The guy – he came in and his girl tied us up and then they locked us in the garage and…"

"Jimmy!" Perry cried, putting his hand to his head. "Keep your voice down son, I've still got a headache."

"Wait a minute," Lois said, crossing her arms. "Let me get this straight. They carjacked you at your house?"

"Yeah," Jimmy picked up, "It was like one minute they were there and then the next…"

"Jimmy!" Perry cut him off. He pointed to the door, "Go clean yourself up and then fetch me a coffee."

Jimmy's face fell but he nodded. He knew that Clark, of all people, would be proud of how he single-handedly saved both he and Perry from almost dying, but having a near-death experience had done nothing for the Chief's mood and Jimmy knew better than to push it. He turned to Clark and said before leaving, "I'll uh…I'll tell you later."

When Jimmy had left, Clark turned back to his boss. "Did you get a good look at them, Chief?"

"Oh yeah, sure," Perry said sarcastically. "I gave a very detailed description to the police…"

"And…" Lois pushed.

"And then they looked at me like I had three heads."

"Why?" Chloe asked, confused.

Perry finally sat in his seat, resting his hands on the edge of his desk. He eyed the three of them, as if weighing whether or not they would think he was crazy as well. Probably, but that's why he had called the three of them into his office and no one else; because they had the most experience with the "unexplained." At length, he answered, "Because I told them we'd been carjacked…by Bonnie and Clyde."

He could have predicted their responses. Clark looked at Perry as if he had lost his mind, Lois almost laughed, and Chloe's mouth dropped as if to say, _Are you serious?_

Lois cleared her throat. "Wow Chief. That's uh…that's one wild story," she said, trying to mask her skepticism.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy but it's the truth," Perry insisted.

Now it was Chloe's turn to clear her throat. She hated being the logical one at times like these. Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were notorious criminals during the Great Depression era. They traveled central America robbing banks, small stores, and gas stations until they had made quite a name for themselves in several states. It wasn't until their unfortunate demise in May of 1934 that their "Robin Hood" career came to an end.

"Chief," Chloe said, trying her best to keep her voice neutral. "Bonnie and Clyde died back in the 30's. There's no way it could have been them."

"I know that, Chloe," Perry snapped. "They took my car, not my senses. But believe me, theses guys were professionals. Costumes, makeup - the works!"

"Do you remember anything specific about the costumes?" Lois asked, her reporter's instinct kicking in.

For the first time since he'd arrived, Perry seemed to loosen up. He flashed Lois a lopsided grin, "Well, you know Lois, I'm not real big on fashion accessories. Especially when there's gun pointed right at me."

Lois unfolded her arms, "Wait a second Perry, hear me out. There was a call that came in over the scanner a couple days ago. A man in a brown felt fedora and alligator spats held up a gun collector downtown."

Catching on, Clark snapped his fingers. "That's right. He got away with an entire arsenal of antique weapons - Tommy guns, Colt 45 automatics…"

"There could be some connection," Chloe finished.

"It's settled then," Perry said. "Lois, Clark, see what you can do. Sullivan, I need you to see if you can trace that car. That Coupe was a piece of this paper's history. It belonged to one of our great publishers. And…" he leaned in close, motioning for the three of them to do the same. When they were all huddled together, Perry whispered, "…it's not insured."


	4. Impersonator

_Thank you to SamwiseAtHeart, Tigger101, smallvillegirl92, and sUnKiSsT for reviewing my chapter three. I'm sorry I wasn't able to message you back, my internet was down. _

_**A/N:**__ Hey - can anybody tell me who or what "Kutchers the Catskills" is? I thought about changing it but I'm intrigued – anybody out there know?_

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**SAMMY'S LOOK-A-LIKE AGENCY **

The car pulled to a stop in front of Sammy's Look-A-Like Agency. From the looks of the old warehouse, it should have been condemned. Only the sign outside indicating several small businesses betrayed it's condition and proved that the building was used.

Lois unbuckled her seatbelt. "We're going in _there_?"

"You can wait out here if you want," Clark replied.

"Not on your life, Smallville," she retorted, throwing in her little term of endearment for him. Mostly because he hated it.

There was little more in the world Lois enjoyed as much as pushing Clark Kent's buttons. It wasn't that she disliked him; far from it. It was that Lois genuinely enjoyed interacting with him, finding Clark one of the few people in world who could actually keep up with her intellect and wit, even challenging her at times. Their bickering was oftentimes more playful than real, almost flirtatious.

And, of course, if she absolutely _had _to have a partner, Perry could have paired her up with someone less attractive. She had to admit, Clark had grown on her since their days in Smallville, and in more ways than one. Not only had he grown into a pretty nice body, but his other features had only gotten better with age. Or was it that she was just finally noticing?

Since getting a job at the _Daily Planet_, Clark had taken to the more professional look, wearing suits and ties rather than the King-of-Plaid style. Lois preferred the new look…if he could just loose the glasses…

He opened the door for her once they had reached the front. Lois had long since stopped trying to get him to let her open her own doors. Even the big city couldn't dull his small-town upbringing. Plus, though she would never admit it, she somewhat enjoyed it when he doted on her.

The inside of the building was much nicer than the outside. Sammy's office was located past an empty receptionist desk. A sign on the door said "Back in 5 Minutes."

Clark shrugged, "I guess we wait."

"Fantastic," Lois said derisively. She surveyed the room. Framed black and white posters lined the lobby walls; every celebrity from Elvis and Marilyn Monroe to James Dean and The 3 Stooges smiled back at her. To make things even more interesting, the furniture was outrageously retro. Lois picked an incredibly bright red chair to sit in, complete with cheetah-print pillows. "I'm surprised the carpet isn't shag," she huffed. "This is the last one of these places I let you drag me into. Remind me again why we're here."

Clark took a seat across from her. "Lois, who would know better than a Look-A-Like agency about where to find famous impersonators?"

"I got that part," she replied, "But I just don't think that carjackers register with agents in their free time."

Their conversation was cut short when the door opened and a short, squatty man walked inside with a beautiful blonde on his arm. "That's right," he was telling her. "He's a dead ringer for Elvis, before he died, that is."

The man stopped short when he noticed the pair sitting in the lobby. Letting go of the lady on his arm, he spread his arms wide in welcome. "Ah, Joann, we have guests," he cried. His voice was loud and booming and it seemed to Lois that if his smile had been any more practiced she would have seen him trying to use it to sell used cars down at the junk yard. He motioned for Lois and Clark to stand. "Please, please, come into my office. The name's Sam, but you can call me Sammy. Hey Joann, get us some coffee, will ya?"

"No thanks…uh…Sammy," Clark said politely, following the older man inside his office. Sammy took down the sign on his door and switched on the lights, exposing an office as messy as a bachelor's dorm room. The walls surrounding his desk were plastered with pictures of celebrities; actors, sports athletes, musicians, Hollywood starlets, royalty, and politicians. Clark recognized several: Boy George, Charlie Chaplin, Princess Diana, James Bond, Dr. Evil, even Darth Vadar. Sammy's desk was covered with even more stacks of pictures and a tremendous amount of paperwork, adding to the clutter. A rack of costumes hung along the left wall, alongside a shelf of various wigs.

Clark took a seat in front of Sammy's desk, Lois doing the same.

"What can I do for you fine folks today?" Sammy inquired.

Glancing at his partner, Clark grimaced. She already looked bored. "I'm Clark Kent. This is my partner Lois Lane. We're from…"

Sammy jumped out of his seat, sending papers from his desk scattering to the floor. "Vegas! Right?!" he interrupted, pointing a stubby little finger at them.

Clark made a face. Lois, however, smiled, clearly amused. "No," she said wryly.

"Wait, don't tell me!" Sammy said. He took his seat again, the papers he had knocked to the floor clearly forgotten. "I never forget an act." He put his hand to his head, concentrated, then snapped his fingers. "Got it! Kutchers the Catskills, right?"

"We're reporters from the _Daily Planet_," Clark interjected before the agent could continue.

Sammy folded his hands thoughtfully. "Reporters, huh? Oh." He eyed Lois, "Too bad. A babe with a face like yours should be in show business."

"Show business?" Lois replied. "Me?"

The agent grinned. "Sure! And I know talent when I see it."

_Talent? _Clark couldn't help but roll his eyes. This guy should have seen her trying to go undercover as a stripper.

Still grinning ear to ear, Sammy had risen from his chair and was now rummaging through the costume rack. "Listen to me toots, you throw on a wig, you slap on a beauty mark…and…"

Before Lois could protest, Sammy pulled out an atrocious costume and was shoving it right at her. "Look at that! You're a dead ringer for Madonna!"

It was too much for Clark to take. He burst out in laughter at the sight of the costume; a gold-nippled corset, black velvet, complete with breast cones and dangling tassels.

"Madonna?" Lois cried incredulously. She shoved the costume back at Sammy. "That's it. I'm gone."

"Come on, Lois, wait," Clark said, putting a hand on her arm to stop her. She made it halfway up before Clark pushed her back down. Before she had the chance to retaliate, he turned back to Sammy, "We were wanting to know if you had any Bonnie and Clyde look-alikes."

The agent turned to hang the costume back up then began pacing, his face drawn in an almost comical look of deep thought. "Bonnie and Clyde…Bonnie and Clyde…Nope. No, Sorry," he said.

"What about costumes from the 20s or 30s?" Clark pushed.

Sammy sat back down at his desk and continued thinking. Finally, he said, "Yeah, come to think of it, a guy came in here a couple of weeks ago looking for gangster costumes."

Clark perked up, suddenly hopeful. Perhaps this trip wasn't a waste after all. "Do you remember his name? Or what he looked like?"

"Sure!" Sammy cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "I keep record of all my business transactions. How do think I got to where I am today?"

With that, he opened a drawer of his desk and began rummaging through it, tossing out files and papers. When he didn't find what he needed in there, he moved to the top of the desk, sloppily pushing papers aside and throwing receipts and sticky notes over his shoulder. A pile that had been over-stacked and too near to the edge fell to the floor at Lois and Clark's feet, and Lois soon found a creepy picture of Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean makeup staring up at her from beside her shoe.

"One can only wonder," she said, murmuring sarcastically under her breath, but just loud enough for her partner to hear.

Remarkably enough, right as Lois was about to grab Clark and make a break for it, the red-faced agent found what he was looking for. "Got it!" he bellowed triumphantly. He shook the receipt to straighten it and began reading aloud, "Uhhh…one Emil Hamilton. Rented an entire rack of gangster costumes just a few weeks ago."

Clark was taking notes. "Any address?"

"No," Sammy answered, "Guy paid cash. You know, I don't usually let my costumes out the door but…"

"Superman?!" Lois suddenly blurted out.

Clark gave a start. His partner rose from her chair, immediately moving to smooth the wrinkles out of her skirt. It was a nervous habit she had whenever she saw _him. _He'd seen her do it a thousand times before but...

To his relief, he saw her attention was drawn not at him, but towards the back of the room where a man with a briefcase was coming through the door of Sammy's office…who looked just like Superman.

"Superman…Wha…what are you doing here?" Lois stammered.

Behind her, Sammy roared with laughter. "I love it! I love it! Get's 'em every time!"

"Huh?"

"Folks, meet Barry Luciano, our Superman impersonator!"

Superman, or rather Barry, laughed a high-pitched laugh and gave Sammy a corny thumbs-up.

"Impersonator?" Lois repeated, her face flushing.

"How you doin'?" Barry asked, his voice much higher and less appealing than the real Superman's. He winked at Lois. "Dead ringer, ain't I? Just don't ask me to fly out no windows, okay lady?"

He walked right past Lois, laying his briefcase on Sammy's desk. Flustered, Lois sat back down, refusing to meet Clark's eyes. No doubt her partner was enjoying every minute of this. She hated the way she tended to morph into a starry-eyed little school girl in Superman's presence, but it was a reaction that she couldn't exactly help.

If she had looked at him, she would have seen that he hadn't even been paying attention. She would have seen him freeze, as if he could hear something nobody else in the room could hear, and then turn toward the window.

"Hey yo Samster, I got some new eight-by-tens," Barry was saying.

"Beautiful! Beautiful!" Sammy cried, thumbing through the pictures. He lifted one so that Lois could see it. "What do you think?" he asked proudly.

Lois studied the portrait with a critical eye. "Well," she said briskly, "They're close, I guess."

Clark still wasn't paying any attention. He had caught something; some noise that only he could detect. It was coming from across the street. He concentrated his super-hearing until he could hear the commotion in the next building as clear as if he were standing in the room.

He heard the frightened cries first, then a voice: "This is a robbery! Everybody down!"

Lois was now arguing with the agent. "Superman's hair is a lot shorter," she said. Fishing through her purse she retrieved her wallet and opened it so that Sammy could see the picture inside. "See?"

Sammy gave her an odd look. "Wow. You mean you actually carry a picture of Superman in your purse?"

Clark focused his x-ray vision toward the direction of the noise. The wall melted away, turning completely translucent before his eyes. He saw a bank, and on the street in front, a vintage car parked right outside the door. A beautiful blonde woman sat at the wheel…

"Well, no," Lois replied, a little embarrassed. "I mean, yeah, but…It's just that…That is, I…"

Focusing further, Clark used his x-ray vision to look through the bank wall. A man in a pinstripe suit was holding a gun to the chest of a very frightened teller. He had an accomplice, a man dressed in a plain brown suit and holding a Tommy gun to keep the bank's customers at bay.

"Fill it up!" pinstripe barked, roughly throwing a bag to the teller.

"…uh…it came with the wallet." Lois finally said.

Sammy didn't look convinced. "Sure," he replied.

Clark had seen enough. He whirled and grasped his partner's arm. "Lois, I have to go downstairs and…uh…put some more money in the meter. I'll be right back," he lied.

Lois watched as her partner dashed out the door. _That is so like Clark_, she thought irritably. She turned to politely excuse herself when she noticed Barry eyeing her.

He smiled a smile which he obviously thought was a lady-killer and said, "So what's yer name, gorgeous?"

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Clark dashed outside, loosening his tie as he ran. If he timed it right he could dispose of the bank robbers and get back to Lois before she decided to check up on him. When he was sure no one was looking, he ducked into the alley behind Sammy's Look-A-Like Agency.


	5. Bank Robbers

_Thank you to smallvillegirl92Tigger101, SamwiseAtHeart, and sUnKiSsT for reviewing my chapter four. You guys are the best!_

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**METROPOLIS CITY BANK**

Clyde watched Dillinger as he threw a bag at the frightened teller behind the desk of the Metropolis City Bank. With shaking hands, the woman opened a safe beneath the counter and began filling it with money. "That's it! All of it!" Dillinger demanded.

Shifting his Tommy gun toward the unlucky customers who had been standing in line before their arrival, Clyde eyed them sharply, daring anyone to challenge him. _Boy, it feels good to be back, _he thought smugly.

Times may have changed, but the thrill of getting what you want by force still felt good.

Having finished filling the bag, the teller hesitantly handed it back to her assailant, who snatched it from her with one swift stroke. She flinched, too scared to take her eyes off him.

"That's right, take a good look, sister," Dillinger jeered at her. Clyde watched with a grin as his companion spun on one heel, gracefully turning so that the crowd could see all sides of him, from his alligator spats to the tip of his fedora. "All'a yous take a good look! This is the face that's gonna be smiling back at you from your evening paper. The face of John H. Dillinger!"

"Come on, John," Clyde said. He enjoyed watching John "the Jackrabbit" Dillinger work, but now was not the time for antics. From what he had heard, cops now-a-days had one hell of a response time.

As if on cue, the bank doors swung open and Bonnie angrily stormed in. "What is takin' so long?" she cried. "I am gettin' wrinkles waitin' out there for you!"

_Damn woman_, Dillinger thought irritably. He opened his mouth to fire a retort right back at her when a gust of wind came out of nowhere and nearly knocked him into the counter. Clyde and Bonnie too, as well as some of the citizens, stumbled as the wind hit them.

Superman sped inside the bank and landed just behind Mr. Pinstripe's back. He made a cursory inspection of the room. Frightened citizens were crouching on the ground, some with their hands up, some covering their heads. No one was injured. Good.

He turned his attention to the bank robbers. There were three of them; two males and one female. Pinstripe had a small handgun, probably one of the stolen Colt 45 automatics he and Lois had heard about. Superman scanned it with his x-ray vision; it was loaded. The woman was unarmed, but her partner had an actual Thompson submachine gun. It was loaded too. He would have to do some pretty fancy footwork if either of the two decided to get trigger-happy.

_Well, enough with the formalities…_"Aren't you boys a little late for Halloween?" Superman said, lowering his voice an octave when he spoke, as he always did when he donned the uniform.

Several of the citizens squealed in delight at the sound of the new arrival's voice. Dillinger whirled, training his gun on the figure that appeared out of nowhere.

It was a man, a big man dressed in a blue uniform with red boots and a cape. His dark hair was slicked back, a small curl splitting his high forehead. A yellow shield emblazoned his chest, a red "S" adorning it's center.

It was the most ridiculous outfit Dillinger had ever seen. He would have laughed at the absurdity of it, had it not made the man wearing it look so powerful. He had learned the hard way that appearances were not always what they seemed. His gut told him to be cautious.

Clyde on the other hand, too thick in the head for smarts as far as Dillinger was concerned, didn't bother stifling his laugh. "Look who's talkin'," he smirked. "Who'a you supposed to be? Little boy blue?"

The big man took a step forward, ignoring Clyde's insult. "Put down those guns," he instructed.

"Oh my," Bonnie breathed, eyeing the stranger as he moved. There was an apparent grace in his walk; a light-footedness that should not have been feasible in a man his size. Besides, she had never seen a man look like _that. _Funny costume or no, he was the sexiest man she had ever seen. If this was what men wore these days, she could definitely get used it. She licked her lips…_ohhhh_, she'd been gone for a such a long time. "He is one hunk of a man."

Clyde scowled at her remark. The big man took the opportunity to step forward once again. "Easy! Easy!" Clyde barked. "One more step big boy and I'll shoot!"

"For the love of god, will ya just shoot the moron so we can get outta here!" Dillinger cried.

Before Bonnie could protest, Clyde opened fire on the stranger. The deafening roar of bullets discharging from his Tommy gun filled the air, frightened citizens all around the room covering their ears or hitting the ground. Remarkably enough, however, the big man didn't budge.

Clyde felt his jaw drop. He'd fired. He was sure he had fired. But…_but what?_ Did the bullets just bounce off the guy's chest or something? The impact of the shots hadn't even pushed the big guy back. He stood there, motionless, his hands resting casually on his hips.

"What is this? A cap gun?!" Clyde shouted, throwing down the weapon.

Dillinger shoved his gun in his jacket pocket. "Geez, you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn," he spat at Clyde. "This is the big leagues, kid." From his other pocket, he pulled a small, egg-shaped item. Superman recognized it immediately and it took only a glance with his x-ray vision to confirm if it was real. _A grenade!_

Dillinger held it up, flaunting it. "Ya know what this is?" he asked. "The guy down at the gun shop told me if I pull this little pin here, it makes a really big boom, ya know what I mean?"

To Superman's horror, he pulled it. "Happy Birthday," Dillinger said smugly, tossing it behind the counter. The teller shrieked.

"What are you doing?!" Bonnie cried, enraged.

"Getting' us outta here!" Dillinger snapped as he backed toward the door.

Superman had no choice. He was fast, but not fast enough to get everyone out of the bank before it blew. He leaped over the counter, covering the grenade with his body. His invulnerability shielded the blast, protecting the lives of the bank's innocent citizens. It was a trick he had learned back when he was still in high school; he had survived more explosions than was humanly possible all before the age of 18. But then again, he wasn't exactly human.

The explosion did little more than jolt his body up off the ground. Had he been wearing normal clothes, they would have been incinerated on contact but the Kryptonian fabric remained unscathed as he stood, brushing the ash from his family's crest and chiding himself for letting them get away. He hadn't swooped in and reprimanded them immediately to give them a chance to surrender. It was his belief in the goodness of human nature that made him want to try to resolve situations first without violence. Now he doubted his decision. These guys were dangerous, so dangerous that they were willing to sacrifice innocent lives to ensure their getaway. He should have just picked all three of them up and dropped them off at the police station before they had the chance to retaliate.

_Well, I won't make the same mistake twice_, he thought resolutely.

Superman quickly tracked the bank robbers with his x-ray vision. They hadn't gotten far, just past Third and Washington…

"Superman!" His thoughts were interrupted when a frightened citizen shouted his name. "Superman! Superman over here!" she cried. "This man…I…I think he's having a heart attack!

------------------------

Clutching her notepad with one hand and scribbling notes into it with the other, Lois did a full sweep of the Metropolis City Bank. When Clark didn't come back to save her from Barry-the-Superman-wanna-be, she excused herself from Sammy's office and promptly bolted. She half expected to find Clark leaning against their car, laughing at how he so cleverly left her behind to fend for herself, in which case she was sure to give him an earful all the way back to the _Planet_. Instead, she saw police cars surrounding the building next to them. Her reporter's curiosity was immediately intrigued: where there were police cars there was trouble, and where there was trouble there was a story.

As luck would have it, she was the first reporter on the scene. Clark was no where around so she assumed he had come out of Sammy's Look-A-Like Agency, saw the robbery, and either ran to phone the police or phone in the story. It never ceased to amaze her that Clark never stuck around when the action started; he was too much of a Good Samaritan to stay and watch.

Police officers were buzzing around her, questioning witnesses and collecting evidence. She listened idly, having gathered just about all the information she could from the crime scene. After questioning several witnesses of her own, she pieced together that a robbery had taken place and Superman swooped in to save the day. Consequently saving the bank from being blown up, he had been forced to abandon his pursuit of the criminals when one of the hostages began to have a heart attack.

_That's my Superman_, she thought fondly. _He must be at the hospital now._

She stopped to observe a police officer wearing rubber gloves and retrieving smashed bullets from the floor in front of the counter when she heard her partner's voice coming from outside.

Clark showed his press pass to the officer at the door and made his way to her. "Nice of you to show up," she said briskly. "While you were putting money in the parking meter, the bank was robbed by someone posing as John Dillinger. Oh, and Bonnie and Clyde put in an encore performance."

"You think it's the same guys who hit up Perry and Jimmy this morning?" Clark asked, straightening his tie.

"I'd say so," she answered. "And you know, you really ought to learn how to tie a tie so that you're not constantly having to try and fix it."

"I'll have to remember that," he said, grinning at her.

Lois turned away to try to mask her smile. _Ya know, sometimes I think he enjoys it when I give him a hard time…_

When she looked away, Clark used his x-ray vision to scan the area where he had seen Mr. Pinstripe pull the grenade out of his pocket. He thought he saw something fall out but he hadn't exactly had time to go see. Sure enough, under the counter, completely hidden from view, he saw a white slip of paper. Going to it, he picked it up.

"What's that?" Lois asked.

Clark examined both sides, confused, then slipped it in his suit pocket. "It's a ticket stub from the downtown Cineplex. It might be a clue."

"A clue?" Lois replied. "Clark, it's a movie ticket stub."

"Yeah. So?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her around so that he could steer her out of the building.

"So? Earth to Smallville - this is a bank. Do you have any idea how many people have been in here today? It could belong to anybody."

"Dillinger dropped it," he said over her shoulder.

"All right," she said, stopping them both. Although it was ridiculous, she'd learned long ago that her partner was rarely wrong. It drove her crazy. In one smooth motion she reached up, grabbed his wrists and turned so that she faced him. Still holding his wrists, she planted her feet. "I hate it when you use that tone because that's the tone you use when you know something I don't, and I hate it when you know something I don't. How could you possible know something that I don't? You haven't been here but maybe two minutes!"

Clark leaned forward, raising his eyebrows at her. "Superman told me."

She dropped his wrists, immediately intrigued. "You saw Superman? Where? When?"

"He was coming back from the hospital and stopped just long enough to tell me what to look for."

"Oh," Lois huffed. "Well, what does he make of all of this?"

Pushing her out the door once again, Clark frowned. "Believe me, Lois, he's as baffled as I am. Let's get back to the _Planet_, see if Chloe's come up with anything."

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_**A/N: **__Don't worry – if you don't know who John Dillinger is, I'll be explaining him in the next chapter, as well as elaborating on Bonnie and Clyde. Later!_


	6. A History Lesson

_Thank you to Tigger101, smallvillegirl92, SamwiseAtHeart, Music Marauder, and Miss Kryptonite for your reviews on my Chapter 5! Not much action here, but I still hope you enjoy Chapter 6!_

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**THE DAILY PLANET**

Lois and Clark returned to the _Daily Planet_ to find Jimmy leaning over Chloe's desk, both of them immersed in whatever was currently pulled up on her computer screen.

When the big glass doors opened, Jimmy looked up and smiled brightly. "C.K! Lois!"he called. He grabbed some papers from off Chloe's desk and ran to meet them. "We've got some information that you are just gonna love!" he gushed, shoving the papers at Lois.

"Easy, Jimmy," Lois said, pushing the stack back at him. "Let me get to my office first."

Jimmy wilted, but perked up again when Clark put his hand on the young man's shoulder as he passed. "What have you got, buddy?" he asked.

Jimmy trailed behind them, talking excitedly. "You know that old vintage car that got stolen from the Chief this morning? Chloe found out that it had once belonged to the _real _Clyde Barrow!"

"You're kidding?" Lois said, setting her things on her desk.

"No. So that got me thinking and I called the cemeteries where Bonnie and Clyde are buried…"

"Jimmy," Lois admonished.

"Wait a second, hear me out," he said, "I know it sounds weird, but get this: both cemetery directors said that a few years ago some scientist had their bodies dug up and took bone and hair samples. Pretty creepy huh?"

"Did you get the scientist's name?" Clark asked.

Jimmy scratched his head, "Yeah it was…uh…"

"Emil Hamilton," Lois finished for him.

Clark couldn't help but smile. Nothing got past Lois. Her mind was almost as sharp as her tongue. It was a truly a wonder she hadn't figured _him _out yet.

Jimmy, on the other hand, was taken aback. "How did you know that?"

"We got a lead on this guy at one of the Look-A-Like agencies here in Metropolis," Clark answered. "He bought a whole rack full of gangster costumes for no apparent reason and paid cash so that it was untraceable."

"Well, that points to our theory," Chloe said, still sitting at her desk.

"Check this out!" Jimmy exclaimed, "What if this guy is some mad scientist and found a way to bring these guys back to life!"

Clark made a face and looked at Chloe. "This is your theory?"

"Hey, don't shoot me down yet. We've seen even stranger things happen," she replied, to which nether Lois or Clark could argue. "Listen, it makes sense. Clyde Barrow is buried in the Western Heights Cemetery, and Bonnie Parker in the Crown Hill Memorial Park, both in Dallas, Texas. Both gravesites were dug up for bone and hair samples by the same scientist within a week's time."

"And, we were able to pull some pictures on the original Bonnie and Clyde and I tell you, they're identical!" Jimmy insisted. "If these guys aren't the real thing, they've really done their homework."

"Let's talk crazy here for a moment," Lois said. She wasn't about to admit that such a far-fetched idea was possible, but she wasn't about to dismiss it, either. She had seen a lot in her lifetime; they all had, both in their current careers and for Lois, Clark, and Chloe, their time spent together in Smallville. "Let's just say that these guys are the real deal. If they've been caught once, they'll be caught again. We just have to find their niche. What do we know about Bonnie and Clyde?"

"Already on that," Chloe said. She clicked a downsized window on her computer to bring it up again. "The three of you better sit down, you're about to get a history lesson.

Okay, we know that Bonnie and Clyde were the modern-day Robin Hoods of their time. Those people most affected by the Depression saw the pair as heroes striking blows at the uncaring government. But from what I've read, neither Bonnie or Clyde were bloodthirsty killers when they died. Especially Bonnie. Members of the Barrow Gang testified that they never saw Bonnie fire a gun, and described her role as just following Clyde wherever he went."

"Makes sense," Jimmy interrupted. "When they had us in Mr. White's garage, Bonnie really didn't wanna kill us,"

"But Clyde did," Clark said, remembering the story Jimmy had told him. He didn't say anything, but the hold up at the bank also came to mind. Bonnie seemed to have been enraged when Dillinger pulled the pin. His friend was right, this was making sense. He motioned for Jimmy to hand him the stack of papers.

"That's where it gets sticky, but I think I've got that figured out, too," Chloe answered. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Clark thumbing through her stack of research papers. She supressed a smile; although he appeared to be thumbing through them at normal speed, his eyes darted across the papers remarkably fast. He was using his superspeed to read through all the information.

Lois raised her eyebrows, prompting her cousin to continue. "Clyde held down square jobs from 1927 through 1929, but he also cracked safes, burgled stores, and stole cars. Robbing banks was on his resume, but he was mostly famous for smaller jobs, like grocery stores and filling stations."

"It says here that Clyde's goal in life wasn't to gain fame or fortune from robbing banks, but to eventually seek revenge against the Texas prison system for the abuses he suffered while serving time," Clark said, looking up from the stack.

"I'm getting there," Chloe said, "There were several incidents in between 1932 and 1934 in which the Barrow Gang kidnapped lawmen or robbery victims and released them far from home, sometimes even with money to help them get back."

"Okay, so why did Mr.-Nice-Criminal go over the edge?" Lois asked.

"Because of his death," Chloe answered, getting up and crossing the distance between her and Clark. She took the stack of papers from him and thumbed through them until she had found what she was looking for.

"Listen to this," she said, reading an article, "On May 23rd, 1934 at approximately 9:10 AM, a posse concealed in the bushes and almost ready to concede defeat, heard Clyde's stolen Ford V8 approaching. The posse's official report was that Bonnie and Clyde stopped to speak with a fellow gang member's father – who had been planted there with his truck that morning to distract the pair – the posse opened fire, killing Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow while shooting a combined total of approximately 130 rounds."

"Yikes," Lois said.

"Under retired manhunter and Texas Ranger Captain Frank A. Hamer's orders, the posse did not call out a warning or order the pair to surrender," Chloe continued. "Clyde died immediately by head shot. Bonnie, however, did not die as easily as Clyde and the posse reported her uttering a long, horrified scream as the bullets tore into the car."

"So," Jimmy interjected, "We think if Clyde based his entire criminal career on getting revenge for all the bad stuff that happened to him in prison, then…"

"Then it's quite possible that the need for revenge would be an inherent trait, even in his clone," Chloe finished.

"What about Dillinger?" Clark asked. "Look up the name John H. Dillinger."

Chloe's fingers flew over her keyboard. "John H. Dillinger. Ah ha, looks like we have another Depression-era Robin Hood. Guy robbed a local grocer and was sentenced to 10-12 years in prison. He learned crime from the more seasoned criminals behind bars and his career escalated after he was released."

"Same story," Lois said, "So how did Johnny Boy die?"

"Lemme just read you this," Chloe said, "Dillinger attended the film Manhattan Melodrama at Biograph Theater in Chicago on July 22, 1934 with his girlfriend Polly Hamilton and brothel owner Ana Cumpanas,"

"What's a brothel?" Jimmy interrupted.

"You're too young," Lois answered.

"I know this story," Clark said. "Cumpanas was facing deportation charges and she worked out a deal with the FBI to set up an ambush for Dillinger to drop the charges against her."

"Very good Clark. I didn't think you paid attention in Mrs. Brandt's class," she said. "Anyway, this is where the phrase "Lady in Red" stems from. Cumpanas was supposidly wearing a red dress when she betrayed Dillinger."

"Cool!" Jimmy cried, "I love that song!"

"Actually, it was orange," Clark corrected. "But because of the night lights it looked red."

"Why are we discussing clothing?" Lois persisted.

"To make a long story short, Dillinger walks out of the theatre and dies in the ambush."

"So our theory is a bunch of dead gangsters rose from the dead and now they want revenge for their deaths," Lois said, matter-of-factly. She grabbed her purse and looked at her partner, "I love it. You guys keep looking into the dead guys; I'm gonna do some digging on Professor Emil Hamilton. We'll meet back up tomorrow."

"You want me to walk you home?" Clark asked.

"I'm a big girl, Smallville," she said, winking at him. "I know my way home."

------------------------

**PROFESSOR EMIL HAMILTON'S APARTMENT**

The lights were low. That's the way Dillinger liked them. It gave him a sense of home; his old hideout. His hideout had been the only place where he could find a measure of peace and sanctuary; that is, before he was murdered.

Clyde had pulled a card table and a few folding chairs from the Professor's attic and they set them up in the kitchen to play poker. Not being allowed to go anywhere, the trio grew bored. The Professor's apartment was nice enough, but it was apparent the old man hadn't a care in the world for the finer things in life. His apartment was sparsely furnished, with little to no sign of personal belongings anywhere. The old man lived in his lab; it was a wonder there wasn't an inch of dust on everything.

It was maddening staying in one place, but the Professor warned them that they weren't ready yet. Maybe they weren't ready, but they had to do something. They took turns sneaking out, while the Professor was hard at work in his lab or asleep for the night. Not knowing what the world of the 21st century had in store for them, they decided to take it slow, Dillinger being the first one to venture out, then Bonnie and Clyde together.

What they found outside the walls of the Professor's apartment was an experience beyond their wildest dreams. America had truly become the land of the free. Cities were larger, buildings were taller, cars were fancier, and there was no need for want anywhere, so unlike the world they left behind. During the Depression families went weeks without food and money was scarce. Here, however, one could walk outside their door and down the street to find seven to ten restaurants lining one road. And the money…oh the money! Everyone had money! Even folks who didn't make their own money had money given to them by the government. Now, no one starved and life was good, even if it was a life on the streets.

Dillinger sat back in his chair, fixing a lazy eye on the stack of cash they had dumped onto the middle of the table. "It's amazing how much money we swiped from just one bank," he said.

"You forget, these ain't the thirties no more," Clyde reminded him. "Back then, all you'd get from a joint was a measly thousand or two."

"Yep, we got a pretty sweet future in this town," Dillinger replied.

Clyde nodded in agreement, but scowled. "So long as we don't keep runnin' into that clown with the blue tights."

"Well, I'd be happy to keep him occupied any time you boys wanna run out and knock over a few more banks," Bonnie said from where she sat on the kitchen counter.

Clyde stopped counting his money and fixed her with a hard look. "That's enough," he said.

Bonnie returned his retort with a sweet smile and slid off the counter, just as the door opened, revealing a flustered and red-faced Professor Hamilton.

"What have you done?!" he cried, running his hands across his receding hairline. "You were supposed to go nowhere without me!"

Dillinger leaned back and put his alligator spats on the table. Positioning his hands behind his head he struck a completely at-ease pose and flashed the Professor an innocent smile. "What'a you talkin' about?"

The Professor stopped short, glaring at him through his wire spectacles. "I'm talking about the news report I just heard! Don't you realize you could have ruined years of my work by exposing yourselves like that?"

Clyde covered his ears to shut out the whining of the little man. Dillinger held his smile, calmly infuriating the muddled Professor. The little man was just so funny when he was upset.

The Professor stomped around the table and threw the file in his hands in front of Clyde, just beside the stack of money. "All of this, all of it," he cried, sweeping his hands over the pile, "We've got to give it back. You've got to give it back. We can't keep it."

Clyde stood up. He towered over the little man by several feet and he used his height to intimidate him. "Pipe down, would ya?" he snapped.

"No, I will not pipe down!" the Professor snapped back, not intimidated in the least. He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "This experiment is the most significant scientific breakthrough in modern history! Are you listening to me?!"

To his dismay, he saw that they were not. Even Bonnie, who was usually the most open and receptive of the four, had left the kitchen and was now sitting on the sofa in the living room, the TV on and the remote in her hands. "Oh look!" she exclaimed, completely ignoring the Professor's rant, "This newfangled box even plays cartoons."

Angrily, the Professor stormed into the living room and shut the TV off. "I will not be ignored!" he shouted. "I didn't give up 17 years of my life to bring you back so that you could rob banks!"

Bonnie stood up and crossed the distance between them. "Don't be angry Professor," she cooed. She took the collar of his jacket in both hands and pulled the little man toward her.

"Miss Parker, please," the Professor bumbled, making a face. "Your perfume, it bothers me. My allergies…"

"Well you can't keep us locked up here forever," she said huskily. She leaned into him, "What is it that girl sings on the radio? Something like g_irls just wanna have fun_?"

He pushed away from her, even more red-faced then before. "Don't you people understand? I brought you back so that you could help civilization, not hurt it."

"Why should we care about civilization?" Clyde spat, rounding on the Professor. "Civilization didn't do nuthin' for us!"

"We gotta do somethin', Professor," Dillinger said, drawing the attention back to him. "I mean, we're sittin' here goin' nuts watching this TV contraption."

The Professor put his face in his hands, trying to calm himself. "I'm sorry," he said, "Truly I am, but until I complete the genetic altering of your personalities, I can't let you back out into society. It's just too dangerous. Until then, you will just have to abide by my rules."

"The rules have changed," said a voice. There was an air of confidence in the thick Italian accent; an air of culture.

Bonnie looked at Clyde, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. Dillinger, too, smiled knowingly.

The Professor spun. This wasn't good. No. This wasn't good at all.

The man in the door took a puff of his stogie and shrugged casually. "No one makes the rules for Al Capone but Al Capone. And now that I'm back, I'm thinkin'a takin' over Metropolis."

------------------------

_Bum Bum Bum….._


	7. Al Capone

_As always, thank you to my friends: Tigger101, Freakk66, Callista Wolfwood, smallvillegirl 92 and SamwiseAtHeart. I appreciate you! _

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_The day before… _

**THE DAILY PLANET **

Clark smiled as Perry stormed past him, followed at the heels by Jacques. Jacques was the executive coordinator for all of the _Daily Planet_'s special occasions, and not one of the Chief's favorite people. A slender, finicky man, Jacques had a voice that could peel paint, a fashion sense worthy of _Queer eye for the straight guy,_ and a need for perfection that bordered obsessive. Right now, Jacques was hounding the Editor-n-Chief for party decisions, balancing several different colored napkins on his right arm.

"Meester Vhite, I need a decizion on ze napkins before ve can order ze rest of ze entrees!" he insisted.

Perry didn't slow. "Aw, hell, Jacques! I could care less what color the damned napkins are!" the older man snapped, throwing his arms up. "Just make sure my guests aren't wiping their mouths on their sleeves!"

Clark chuckled as Jacques comically threw the napkins over his shoulder in exasperation. It wasn't long, however, before the coordinator was bustling in another direction, barking at his decorating staff. "Come on, come on! If ve are going to turn zis dreary little vorkplace into a grand ballroom by Friday ve can't sit around sipping caffee latte. _Allo_?"

_Speaking of coffee…_Clark thought as he glanced at his watch. Lois would be here any minute; he probably had just enough time to pour her a cup before she had the opportunity to ask, or demand, for one.

"Coffee, Chloe?" he asked, pausing at his friend's desk.

Chloe looked up from the stack of paperwork she had been rummaging through. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail today, away from her face and she was dressed somewhat casually in khaki slacks and a white shirt. She looked ready to do some serious digging, especially with a pencil behind her ear and about four envelopes in her mouth. She made a sound like, "Mm mmmm mmm," before Clark, obligingly, plucked the envelopes from between her lips so that she could answer. "No thanks," she said, "I'm getting ready to head into Perry's office in a few minutes."

"What's all this?"

"I promised the Chief I'd help him organize his office before the big party."

Glancing at the stack, Clark raised his eyebrows. "Looks like fun."

"Don't even start," she huffed, attempting to glare at him. "Perry hasn't thrown anything away in thirty years. Besides that, he's still upset the police haven't been able to recover that vintage car. This is going to be interesting."

"It's those superior organizing skills," he teased, "You're a victim of your own success."

"You know, Mr. Kent, if you're not doing anything today I'm sure I could have Jacques…"

"Well, I hear the coffee calling," he interrupted, flashing her his famous lopsided Kent-grin. He stuck the envelopes back in her mouth. "You have fun."

"Mmmmm…."

"Your welcome."

Sidestepping a scurrying copy boy, Clark made his way to the coffee machine and began to pour two cups of coffee just as he heard the familiar _clop clop _of Lois' favorite high heels. She was still coming up the stairs down the hall, but even without his superhearing he would have recognized her gait, which he knew almost as well as his own.

She entered the bullpen just as Clark finished and he picked up both mugs, turning to meet her. She looked beautiful, as usual. Today she had chosen to wear a black suit outfit with a silk maroon blouse, leaving her hair long and falling gently around her shoulders. In her hands she carried a small stack of files. She searched the room until she spotted her partner.

"I got some information on Hamilton," she said when she reached him.

Clark handed her the coffee mug, made just the way she liked it, and made a face. "Good morning to you, too," he replied.

She took the coffee, but acknowledged the face with a quick swat to his shoulder. "Not much, though," she said between sips. "I was up half the night digging through police reports and old arrest records. This guy doesn't have a single mark against him. Not even a parking ticket."

"So no criminal record?"

"Not a smudge," she said, rounding the corner of her desk. She put down the files and pulled a photo from the top of a stack of loose papers. She handed it to Clark. "Here he is - Professor Emil Hamilton, science nerd extraordinaire. He's a genius; spends 24 hours a day working in his laboratory. No family, no friends; spends every penny funding his experiments."

Clark studied the photograph. The man gazing back at him sure didn't look capable of aiding and abetting murderous criminals; in fact, he looked rather harmless. From the photo, Emil Hamilton looked to be a slight, middle-aged man with a small frame, round glasses, and a clean-shaven face. _Looks can be deceiving_, Clark thought to himself, _but the eyes never lie._

As Superman, Clark had seen the hardened, uncaring eyes of many a criminal. He had seen the eyes of liars, of thieves, of murderers, and of homicidal maniacs. Emil Hamilton's eyes were not those of a criminal.

"He sure doesn't look intimidating," he voiced.

"No, but the guy's got brains that would rival Einstein," she replied. "When I wasn't able to get very far on his criminal record, I checked into his scientific work. Get this – Professor Hamilton was into DNA modification."

Clark snapped his fingers as the recognition dawned on him. "Professor Emil Hamilton – now I remember that name!" he said. He turned to his partner. "I read an article in the library about this guy several months ago."

"And you still remember?" she joked.

He ignored her and continued on with his train of thought. "Hamilton believed he could restructure DNA and short circuit aggressive behavior. He hoped to eliminate all anti-social impulses in man that way."

Lois pursed her lips, mentally putting the pieces together. "So we've got a scientist who thinks he can mess with a person's DNA and take out all the bad stuff. Did the article say anything about bringing criminals back to life?"

"Not directly, but he did say that criminals would be the best people to experiment on," he answered.

"Hmmmmm," Lois thought aloud. She moved to sit in her chair, Clark taking a seat on her desk beside her. She thumbed through the stack, pulling out a scanned copy of a newspaper article. "I think we're finally getting somewhere," she said. She skimmed the article with her eyes, "It says here that Hamilton claimed he found a way to not only initiate cloning, but to accelerate the maturation process of the embryos."

"His theories outraged the scientific community," Clark added.

"Maybe that's why he dropped out of sight," she replied. "After he lost his funding from the University, Hamilton just disappeared."

Lois put down the article in her hand just as Jimmy sped through the _Planet's_ glass doors. The young, dark-haired boy spotted his friends and quickly made a be-line for them.

"Hey guys, get a load of this!" he cried, waving a piece of paper in the air. "It just came over the fax. You are so not going to believe this! The police got a definite make on those bank robbers from yesterday. The fingerprints are an exact match with the real John Dillinger, Bonnie Parker, and Clyde Barrow!"

Lois looked to Clark at the same time he looked at her. It was all coming together.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked.

"Yep," he answered, reaching for his coat. "Let's go find Bobby Bigmouth. If Hamilton really did create these guys, Bobby would be the person to know."

Lois handed Jimmy her coffee and grabbed her purse. "Jimmy, make sure Perry sees that fax."

"And if she's got time, have Chloe do a search on cemeteries where famous criminals are buried," Clark added. "We need to find out if any more of these guys are on the way."

"Gotcha C.K." Jimmy said. "I'm on it."

With that, Lois and Clark were on the move. No sooner had they left, a strange man strolled through the decorated glass doors. Amidst the _Planet_'s bustling activity, the visitor took his time, pausing to take in the sights and sounds of the bullpen, apparently unconcerned that those around him were staring at him. He stopped in front of Jimmy, casually surveying the room.

Jimmy couldn't help but stare. _Was this guy for real?_

An older man, the stranger wore a dark blue pinstripe suit and tie. A white felt fedora covered a head of gray hair and flashy, jeweled rings glittered upon his fingers. He had a lit cigar in his hand, the smell of it causing Jimmy to choke.

At the sound of the youth's cough, the man turned, as if noticing Jimmy for the first time. "Hey kid," he said. "Point me in the direction of Perry White."

Jimmy could tell from his no-nonsense tone that this guy was used to giving orders. He cleared his throat, putting on his most polite, customer-friendly face. "He's….um…he might be in his office," he stuttered, his nerves getting the better of him. "Do you have an appointment?"

The stranger looked insulted. He gave Jimmy a disbelieving look, as if the answer should have been apparent to the young upstart. He waved his cigar, tendrils of smoke trailing behind it, and said, "Al Capone don't need no appointment."

The name hit Jimmy first. He might not have been a history buff, but he'd seen _The Untouchables._ Al Capone was an ex-Chicago gangster and crime lord who led a crime syndicate dedicated to the illegal traffic of alcohol during the Prohibition era. But the man had been dead since the 40s. Jimmy looked down at the fax in his hand.

"Hey kid! You deaf or sumthin'? I said Perry White," the stranger demanded.

The authority in the stranger's tone left Jimmy speechless. He had no way of knowing if this guy really was Al Capone, but he was getting kind of a sinister vibe from him. Regardless, Perry didn't like unwanted visitors. He opened his mouth to try to reply when he was unexpectedly _(and thankfully)_ saved by Jacques.

The prissy little man marched right up to Capone, waving his hands in the air. Although the stranger was at least a head or two taller than Jacques, the little man reached up and snatched the cigar right out of Capone's mouth. "Oh no no no!" Jacques scolded. "Ve can't have you smoking zis nasty little zing in here!"

Jimmy's jaw dropped.

"Do you have any idea ze effect zis cigar vill have on my hydrangeas?" Jacques stressed. Jimmy had no clue what a hydrangea was, but he could see Perry just out of the corner of his eye looking through the glass windows of his office. The Chief wasn't in the greatest of moods today. This didn't look good.

Capone indignantly took his cigar back from Jacques. He loomed over the coordinator, causing him to cringe. "Do you have any idea the effect this fist will have on your face?" he spat.

Jacques' face paled. The sheer menace of the mysterious stranger was enough to silence the finicky little man. Jacques backed off, leaving Capone alone with Jimmy. "Now kid, Perry White if you don't mind."

Jimmy cleared his throat again, suddenly thankful that he was in a room full of people. "Listen mister, I'm really sorry but the Chief…"

He was cut off short when Perry's voice came rocketing across the office. "Jimmy! What in the samhell is going on out there!" he cried.

Jimmy shut his eyes. _Way to lay low, Chief_, he thought wryly. "You've got a visitor!"

"Tell him to go away!" the editor snapped. "I don't have time for chit-chat. I've got a newspaper to run."

Without even meaning to, Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief. The quicker they got this guy off the property the better. "You heard the man," he said. He set down Lois' coffee and reached for a notepad and pen from the nearest desk. He meant to give it to the stranger to write his info on, however, the stranger pushed right past him. "Hey wait!" Jimmy called. "You can't just…."

------------------------

The door to Perry's office opened without a knock, bringing with it the smell of a very fine cigar. Both Perry and Chloe looked up from their current project to see the same stranger Jimmy had been talking to stroll uninvited into the Editor-n-Chief's office. "Perry White, I presume," he said.

Perry and Chloe exchanged looks. Perry was in no mood for playful banter. "Who wants to know?" he demanded.

"Al Capone," the man introduced himself.

Perry laughed aloud. "Oh, great shakes of Elvis, they're coming out of the woodwork now! Look pal, I don't know what kind of charade you're pulling here but…"

Capone held out his hands, as if to show he meant no harm. "Hey, is that any way to talk to a guy who just came by to do you a favor?"

"A favor?" Perry repeated.

Capone reached into his jacket pocket and produced a familiar set of keys. He tossed them at Perry. "The Coupe, out back. Washed and waxed."

"Is this for real?" Chloe piped. She had been so quiet Perry had almost forgotten she was there. The editor picked up the keys, examining them.

"They're real," Capone continued. "Oh, and sorry about Clyde. He was still makin' payments on it when they got him."

"I don't understand," Perry said, eyeing Capone. The keys were real all right; he recognized the old fashioned key chain. But this didn't make sense. Carjackers just didn't _return _stolen cars, especially cars they were willing to kill for. There had to be strings attached. Perry had lived too long and seen too much to think that the stranger was just being a Good Samaritan. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Capone replied cheerfully. "Oh, and by the way, I found this under the front seat." He reached into his jacket and extracted a plain white envelope, which he held out to Perry. "I think it belongs to you."

Perry took it. "What's this?"

The stranger gave a sly smile, as if enjoying his own personal joke. "Come on, Mr. White. You're an editor; I'm a businessman. Let's just say we both know how to run an organization."

The envelope looked harmless enough. Looking to the stranger again, Perry decided to chance it. It couldn't be anything harmful, like an explosive, or the man would have bolted to save his own skin. Besides, the journalist in Perry was curious.

He opened it. Chloe gasped.

The stranger merely smiled. "And we both know that it's the grease that keeps the presses flowing."

Putting down the envelope, Perry turned to Chloe. "Uh, Sullivan, go see if Jimmy needs any help, would ya?"

Chloe frowned. She knew what he was doing, but didn't object. Perry had been around the block more than enough times to know what he was doing. "Sure, Chief."

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_**A/N:**__ To my friends – I am going out of town for about 3 weeks, overseas actually, and there is a slim chance that I will have internet access at any of the places we will be staying. So unfortunately, this is probably the last chapter you will get from me until late March. I just wanted to let everybody know. I'm not giving up – I'm just delayed! I'll pick up on Capone in the next chapter when I get back. Thank you all again for sticking with me! Your encouragements make all the difference!_


	8. Bobby Bigmouth

_**A/N:**__ Wow – I can't tell you guys how good it is to be home! How bad is it when the internet is on the top of your "Things-I-missed-the-most" list??! I am totally hopeless! Close second had to be my pillow and my bed! Anyways, I just finished up the next chapter tonight. It was a little difficult picking up where I left off so I hope you guys like it._

_Special thanks to batfan7, Freakk66, smallvillegirl92, and SamwiseAtHeart. It was nice coming home to your encouraging words :)_

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**THE DAILY PLANET **

Perry watched Chloe as she left the room. Sure, she was in her late twenties, but as far as Perry was concerned, she was still a kid. His own children had already grown; some had kids of their own. None of them visited on a regular basis and calls only seemed to flow in when they needed something. Not that he minded lending them money when they were in a jam or babysitting when they needed a weekend, but sometimes he felt that Lois, Clark, Chloe and Jimmy were closer to him then even his own family. They probably knew him better and definitely spent more time with him. _That kid's seen a lot in her career, but I'll be damned if I expose her to this kind of corruption._

As Chloe closed the door behind her, Capone turned back to Perry, a broad smile on his face. The scar on his left cheek was clearly visible from this angle. _Damn, the lengths these guys go to mess with your head._

"Listen Mr. White, I could use someone like you. See, things here in Metropolis are about to change, and I need someone on the inside to say the right things about me in the paper."

_So that was the catch._

Perry opened the envelope again, which suddenly felt very heavy in his hands. His fingers grasped the bills inside; _large_ bills, and a whole lot of them. It had to be the stolen money from the bank Lois and Clark reported in yesterday. Eyewitnesses described the same couple involved in the carjacking.

The thought of accepting dirty money made the editor sick. "Look, I've just about had it up to here with Masterpiece Theatre for one day," he said gruffly, stuffing the bills back into the envelope. He tossed it back at Capone and stood. "Now why don't you just take your money and that phony scar and get the hell out of my office."

For a moment, the stranger didn't move and Perry savored the surprise in his face. It was apparent this guy hadn't planned on the Editor-in-Chief turning him down.

Capone looked down at the rejected money in his hand. "Mr. White, you're being unreasonable. I think we both know a good business proposition when we see one. I'm a fair man, I'll give yu a couple'a days to think it over."

Perry shook his head. "No, I thought about it. The curtain's down. The show's over. It's time for you to find the EXIT."

Stuffing the envelope back in his jacket pocket, Capone spun on his heel, pausing at the door to fix the Editor-n-Chief with a steely gaze. "You know, Mr. White, I really enjoy your paper. I'd hate to see it shut down."

With that, he left.

-------------------------

Jimmy tried to act natural as Capone stormed passed him. He had already filled Chloe in on the fax. They had been right! These guys were the real deal! That was really Al Capone!

As soon as the gangster vanished from sight, the two rushed into Perry's office. "Are you okay, Chief?" Chloe asked breathlessly.

At the same time, Jimmy gushed, "Chief, what just happened?"

"What do you mean, what just happened?" Perry answered angrily. "I took out the garbage, that's what happened!"

Jimmy shook his head. "Chief, I don't know if you realized this, but that was Al Capone."

"Don't be ridiculous!" the editor snapped. "That guy was nothing but a con artist!"

Chloe cleared her throat and took the paper from Jimmy. "Uh, Chief," she said, handing it to Perry. "We've got a fax here you might wanna see."

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**THE METROPOLIS TRAIN YARDS **

Lois fidgeted in her seat. Bobby was late, and those ravioli's were starting to smell _really _good.

Her stomach growled. _Why didn't I eat before I left the office? Even a piece of toast…_

They had been waiting for half an hour, parked in the far corner of the Metropolis train yards. It was late in the afternoon and most of the yard's employees had already gone home for the day. It served their purpose well; Bobby tended to get paranoid when there were witnesses around.

Lois' stomach growled again. She eyed Clark, who kept the bag of delectably smelling Italian food positioned on his lap. God it was annoying how well he knew her!

Her stomach growled a third time. _That's it_, she thought irritably. She reached for the bag. "Those ravioli's are getting cold. You know how Bobby hates it when his food gets cold."

It was an incredibly lame ploy and Clark wasn't falling for it. "Lois," he scolded. He batted her hand away and pulled the bag just out of her reach. "It's for Bobby."

"Come on, Smallville. He won't know!"

Clark rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, right," he said. He fixed her with a derisive look. "Remember what happened last time?"

This time it was Lois' turn to roll her eyes.

"You tried to pick the cheese off his pizza and he got all pouty and wouldn't tell us anything."

Lois crossed her arms. He loved it when she pouted. It was absolutely adorable. The way she chewed her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes in an attempt to glower…the thought made Clark involuntarily shift position, grateful that the bag covered his lap.

"I still don't know how he knew the cheese was missing," Lois griped, "I was very careful not to disturb the pepperoni."

A musical beeping noise cut into their debate. Clark's cell phone happily chirped the chorus of _Dukes of Hazzard_ and as he fished it out of his pocket, Lois turned to look out the window. "That ringer is so irritating. Why do you even keep it?"

"Because it annoys you."

"Very funny."

He glanced at the caller I.D. "It's the office. I don't have any signal here." He turned to Lois, "It might be important. I'm gonna go call 'em back."

Instead of handing her the food, Clark got out with it. She was sure he would take it with him, just to keep her out of it, but instead he sat it on his seat and waggled a finger at her. "Don't even think about it."

With that, he turned away. Lois waited until he was out of sight before snatching up the bag. _Just one…Bobby won't notice…_

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a body shot up from the backseat of the car. "Hey Lois!" Bobby Bigmouth said cheerfully.

Lois almost squealed in surprise. She dropped the bag in her lap, catching it at the last minute before the ravioli's came tumbling out.

Breathing hard, she glared at Bobby. "God, Bobby, I think my life just flashed before my eyes! How was I supposed to know you weren't some sort of psycho mugger?"

"I guess you just need to be more careful about leaving your doors unlocked," he said, pleasantly.

"How did you get back there anyway?"

"Trade secret."

"And how dare you eavesdrop on me and Clark's conversation!"

Bobby shrugged and threw up his hands, "Hey, I can't help it. I'm a professional snitch. So what did you bring me?"

Lois sighed. Glaring at Bobby did no good. He didn't care. In fact, he'd probably think it was funny.

A tall, lanky man, Bobby's head just barely grazed the roof of the car. Brown hair, worn short and shaggy, was tucked neatly under a hair net. His white chef's apron was stained with a day's worth of wipes, spills, and dribbles; he must have been at work when he got the call. Lois found it amazing that a man who worked on the buffet line of a restaurant could still be hungry all of the time.

Neither Lois nor Clark knew Bobby's real last name, but he was known among his sources as Bobby Bigmouth, a name that suited his "profession." Nothing happened in Metropolis that Bobby didn't know about. It wasn't because Bobby had money or power or influence - far from it, in fact. The man worked in a low-profile restaurant with minimum wage to boot. It was Bobby's keen ears that heard things, and a wide range of friends and sources from all over the city to feed him information.

As far as they knew, Lois and Clark were Bobby's only contacts at the _Planet_, which meant keeping him happy. Lois handed him the bag. "A wide variety of culinary delights," she snapped, "as usual."

Bobby rubbed his hands together enthusiastically, like a little child waiting for desert, and snatched the bag from her, immediately digging in.

"Do I detect an attitude here?" he asked. He pulled out the napkins and threw them on the floor. "Look, you know, I don't have to snitch for you anymore. There's a reporter at the _Star _who says he'll give me my own chef if I start working for him."

Pulling out the breadsticks, Bobby shoved three in his mouth at once.

"Hey Bobby," Clark greeted him as he opened the door and plopped into the passenger's seat.

"Hey man," Bobby answered with a full mouth.

Clark ignored the breadcrumbs falling from Bobby's mouth and turned his attention to his partner. "That was Jimmy. You're not going to believe this. The Al Capone just paid the Chief a visit."

Lois' mouth dropped. "Al Capone? How many of these characters are out there? Who's next – Ma Barker?"

Bobby was busy stuffing his face with pizza. You would have thought that the skinny man hadn't eaten for days with the way he was gorging himself.

"I don't know, but apparently Capone tried to bribe him. Moreover, the mayor got the same offer." He turned to Bobby, who had moved on from the pizza, throwing the crust on the floorboard of the car, and had started in on the lasagna. "Bobby, what do you know about these people?"

Bobby swallowed. "Look, all I know is it's some sort of experiment gone bad."

Hearing this, Clark looked at Lois. "Hamilton really did it."

"And this regenerated Capone character," Bobby continued, taking a sloppy bite of the pasta and continuing, barely chewing, "not a big fan of the no-smoking laws."

"What else?" Lois asked.

Bobby was incredulous. "What else?" He motioned to the tin of lasagna in his hand. "What? For this? You didn't even bring me dessert. Come one."

_No dessert?_ Pulling down his glasses, Clark scanned the paper bag, using his x-ray vision to see its contents. Sure enough, it was gone. He pushed his glasses back up. "Lois!" he scolded.

Lois glowered at Clark. Then, with an overdramatic huff, she reached over and yanked the glove compartment open. She took out an aluminum tin with a plastic cover and handed it to Bobby, not even looking at him.

Bobby opened it greedily, picking up two of pastries at once. "Oh! Tortes! Way to go girl. You redeemed yourself."

Lois crossed her arms. "Now talk."

The snitch shoved both tortes in his mouth, getting cream on his upper lip. "Look, there's this guy…he's got this illegal gaming club downtown on Hobbs Street. His name is Georgie Hairdo. Capone's thugs have been leaning pretty heavily on him.

"What's Capone's interest in the club?" Clark asked.

"I dunno. Wants a piece of the action I guess, just like the good 'ol days. Anybody want this pickle?" he asked, holding it up.

Lois snatched it out of Bobby's grip before Clark could even reach for it.

"Look, something's going down at the club tomorrow night. That's all I know," he said. "Thanks for the food. I gotta run. Oh, and by the way, next time, bring me something to drink, huh? And I don't mean none of that imported water – something American. Pepsi is a good choice." With that, Bobby opened the door and hopped out of the car, leaving his usual mess of discarded canisters, bags, and crumbs in the backseat.

Clark turned to his partner, who was crunching thoughtfully on her claimed prize. "So what do you think?" he asked.

"I think this pickle is awful," she answered. "And I think we need to visit that Club."


	9. Obituary

_Thank you to Freakk66, SamwiseAtHeart, smallvillegirl92, and batfan7 for reviewing my Chapter 8. You guys are great!_

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**OUTSIDE THE DAILY PLANET**

The golden globe atop the _Daily Planet_ glittered in the sunlight. Across the street, leaning against the Fifth and Madison payphone, a figure silently admired the beauty of the simple architecture.

He had always liked art. Unlike the heartless, ruthless gangster he was always made out to be in the movie pictures, Alphonse Gabriel Capone believed himself to be more cultured than that. It was amusing, however, to know that even 60 years later he was still revered as the most ruthless criminal in history. Quite touching, actually.

Reaching into his pocket he withdrew an old withered piece of paper. His first visit outside of the Professor's apartment had been the Metropolis Library, and for a very special purpose. Sure, it wasn't glamorous that his first "crime" committed after being awakened was snitching his own obituary from a public library, but hey – he was Al Capone. It didn't matter anymore what people thought of him. This time would be different.

He had never believed in life after death when he was alive. He had lived for the moment, lying, cheating, stealing, and even killing when it was necessary. It had been a hard life, but a rewarding one. He had amassed an incredible fortune during the Prohibition, making a great deal of money from illegal prostitution and alcohol. Prosecution for his crimes was easily avoided by bribing city officials and intimidating witnesses, giving him power in Chicago that no "honest" man could have ever attained. He had been unstoppable! Before he had been convicted, that is. The last few years of his life had been a blur; he barely remembered anything, thanks to the sickness that had plagued him. He wanted to know how he died, and what had happened to his entire operation when he was gone.

Capone unfolded the piece of paper. His rejection at the hands of Perry White didn't concern him. White, as well as the rest of his pathetic newspaper, would soon be dead. Their deaths would show Metropolis that he meant business. No newspaper would dare refuse him when he was finished with the _Planet_.

The obituary was published by the New York Times and was dated January 26, 1947. The title - Capone Dead At 48; Dry Era Gang Chief.

"Let's see what the good-ol'-newspaper-boys had to say about me," he whispered to himself.

_Ah, I like this… _"Head of the cruelest cutthroats in American history, he inspired gang wars in which more than 300 men died by the knife, the shotgun, the Tommy gun and the pineapple, the gangster adaptation of the World War I hand grenade."

His infamy made international legend."_ Legend, huh? _"In France, for example, he was 'The One Who Is Scarred'." _The One Who Is Scarred? I like it. "_He was the symbol of the ultimate in American Lawlessness." _You're too kind._

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**THE DAILY PLANET**

"Capone won great wealth; how much, no one will ever know, except that the figure was fantastic," Chloe read from Al Capone's obituary pulled up on Perry's computer screen. Jimmy and the Chief listened intently. "He remained immune from prosecution for his multitudinous murders, including the St. Valentines Day Massacre in 1929 when his gunners, dressed as policemen, trapped and killed eight of the Bugs Moran bootleg outfit in a Chicago garage, but was brought to book, finally, on the comparatively sissy charge of evasion of income taxes amounting to around $215,000."

"Who in the hell was that guy's editor?" Perry snapped distractedly, "If either of you two ever use the word _sissy _in a story, you're fired."

"I heard Capone did time in Alcatraz," Jimmy piped, eager to change the subject.

"Yep," Chloe affirmed, "sentenced to eleven years in Federal prison – serving first at Atlanta, then on The Rock at Alcatraz."

"I can't believe that was really him," the Chief replied, more to himself than to the two young reporters. "What have I just gotten us all into?"

Chloe looked up from Perry's computer. "Don't worry, Chief," she said, "Superman won't let anything happen to the _Planet_."

_That night…_

**OUTSIDE THE CLUB ON HOBBS STREET **

Outside the club and at a distance, Lois and Clark sat and observed. Bobby had left the address of the "illegal gaming club" scribbled on a napkin in Lois' back seat. She had been just about to throw it away when Clark caught it.

To avoid suspicion, Clark parked a couple of blocks away. The building looked like a warehouse on the outside, with a splintered and faded wooden sign above the door that read HOBBS ST. SHIPPING CO. The building itself was unimpressive, except for the elegantly dressed throng of patrons forming a line outside; an odd sight, even for a passerby.

As they watched, a limo pulled up to the curb.

"Pretty classy crowd for your run-of-mill illegal operation," Lois commented.

Clark nodded in agreement, meanwhile using his super-vision to watch what was going on. A lavishly dressed elderly couple climbed out of the limo and approached the entrance. The man knocked twice and, in answer, a rectangular peephole in the door slid open. Clark focused his super-hearing on their conversation. He heard the bouncer ask for the password and the gentleman answer him.

"Hey," Lois said, breaking his concentration, "Isn't that Congressman Harvey and his wife?"

For the first time Clark took note of the couple just as they were let inside the building. He made a _tisk-tisk_ sound, shaking his head. "Nice to know how our taxes are being spent."

He turned to Lois. She looked beautiful tonight. She had chosen to wear a red silken dress; his favorite dress actually. The last time she had worn it was when the two of them received the Metropolis Journalist Team of the Year Award. She had been stunning in it the first time but tonight, she looked absolutely breathtaking.

Which brought him to his next concern. If Bobby was right and Capone and his thugs were planning on crashing the party tonight, the line of fire was not exactly the place he wanted Lois to be. His partner had a knack for getting in the middle of things. He spent most of the afternoon trying to think of ways to talk her out of going into that club, but each excuse had been similarly dismissed. There was no possible way of convincing Lois to sit in the car while "Clark" went in to the Club. He shuttered to think of the things that would come out of her mouth if he even suggested such a thing.

As if in answer to his train of thought, Lois kicked open the door and slipped gracefully out. "Let's go."

Grimacing, Clark followed suit. "Wait a second," he said, climbing out of the car. "We need to discuss some kind of plan of action here. There could be a bouncer at the door. You think they're just gonna let us walk in there?"

It sounded lame and he knew it, but he couldn't exactly tell her that he had seen the peephole and heard the bouncer ask for a password from over two blocks away.

Lois crossed her arms. "Gimme some credit, Smallville. I got enough smarts to get past some stupid bouncer."

She took off for the warehouse without another word. When they reached the door, Lois knocked twice. The rectangular peephole in the center slid open, exposing the eyes of the bouncer on the other side.

"Yeah?"

Lois smiled pleasantly. "Hi. We have reservations."

The eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the couple. "We don't take reservations, lady. What's the password?"

"Password?" Lois asked, but then caught herself. "Oh, oh you mean the password to get in. Of course. Yeah, right, it's um…Joe sent me."

"Uh, no. Sorry."

"The Eagle has landed?"

"Nope."

"Swordfish?"

"Swordfish??" Clark repeated, incredulous.

"Shut up," she snapped.

The eyes wrinkled as if amused. "Sorry babe. I saw that Marx Brothers movie, too. Better luck next time."

As the peephole started to close, Clark pushed past Lois, sticking his finger in the opening to cut it off from closing. "She's just kidding. The password is The Fat Lady Sings."

This time, the peephole did close. And the door opened.

Lois' jaw dropped. She looked at him questioningly. "I…uh…saw it in an old _Untouchables_ episode," he offered.

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_**A/N: **__Sorry to cut it off like that, but I promise I'll do my best to make it worth the wait :) Also - I need to add a little disclaimer in there. The excerpts from the obituary above are actual excerpts from the New York Times obituary for Al Capone._


	10. Shot

_Once again, special thanks to Freakk66, smallvillegirl92, batfan7, and SamwiseAtHeart. You guys keep me going!_

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**THE CLUB ON HOBBS STREET**

Inside the warehouse, the party was in full swing. The lavish interior of the club was as impressive as it's dingy cover-up. From craps to roulette to Four Card Poker, Clark spotted just about every game of chance imaginable, and likely some unimaginable. He was reminded of the Las Vegas casinos he and Lois had visited last summer on assignment from Perry to try to scoop out a story on rigged gaming tables. It was a successful trip, after he was able to pull Lois away from the slot machines, that is.

Using his x-ray vision, he scanned the room. Only the security guards seemed to have weapons. He continued to search the room until his eyes fell on an attractive blonde sitting alone at the bar. He recognized her immediately from the bank robbery. _Bonnie Parker!_

Clark turned back to Lois, only to find she was no longer behind him.

_Great. I guess I know where to look..._

It took a few moments to locate them, but sure enough, he found his partner at the slot machines.

"Lois, we're here to work," he said, rounding on her.

"Come on, Smallville, lighten up," she snapped. "Just a few more quarters. I just got warmed up."

He didn't argue; there was no use. _At least she's occupied and staying out of trouble, _he thought. If Bonnie was here, then Clyde and Dillinger couldn't be far behind.

He turned his attention once again to the woman at the bar. She certainly was pretty, in a Bettie Page sort of way. Nowhere near Lois in beauty, as far as he was concerned, but not unattractive by any means. Her blonde hair was swept up in a classic 1930's style chignon. Her dress, a glittering gold evening gown, was cut up the side, exposing long, pale legs. She picked at an empty glass on the bar, gazing uninterested at the object as if she had nothing better to do.

_Time for a little investigative reporting_, he thought, straightening his tie.

He made his way for the bar, passing by several gaming tables and gamblers along the way. Casually, he slipped into the seat next to her. "How about some company?" he asked.

Bonnie looked up, not bothering to hide her pleasure when she saw the gorgeous, dark-haired man take a seat next to her. It looked like her night was about to get better. "Hey handsome," she purred, scooting closer to him. "I'd _love _some company."

With her leg just barely grazing his, Clark fought the urge to shy away, masking his discomfort with a sexy confidence "So, you come here often?" he asked.

"I haven't been here in years," she answered, smiling coyly. "I haven't really been anywhere in years."

"Really?" Clark replied, pretending to be interested. He only hoped Lois was still gambling; he would never hear the end of it if she saw him flirting with a strange woman. "Well, we just might have to change that. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure."

"Anything you like."

Bonnie surprised him by leaning forward, bringing her face close to his. "Why don't you surprise me," she said, her voice husky.

Clark chuckled to relieve some of the tension. She was good. Had she have been Lois, he would have been putty in her hands by now. Regardless, it was nice to get a little attention for once. He turned to the bartender. "Could I get a white wine for the lady, and I'll take a Roman coke."

Bonnie watched her dark-haired patron intently as he ordered their drinks. _Damn, if those aren't the sexiest eyes I've ever seen. Is this guy really alone? Are women now-a-days blind?_

She leaned forward again, this time taking his tie in her hands. At one point in time, Bonnie would never have been so forward with a man. She had followed Clyde around like a little puppy, writing poetry in her free time and feeling as if she was part of something bigger in a world that was just coming to terms with independance. She had died so young, at 24 years old! It wasn't fair! She had been in her prime! Death had taken away her chance to have a real life, and there had been so much more she wanted to do. Well, no one was going to stop her now, hell or high water.

"You seem a little wound up," she cooed. Her slender fingers slipped beneath the knot and gave it a gentle, playful tug. "Why don't you loosen your tie and relax."

Meanwhile, across the room, Lois put her last quarter into the machine and pulled the lever. To her delight, the lights on the machine started to flash. She had hit the jackpot! Quarters started to pour out of the shoot on the bottom and an attendant hurriedly handed her a cardboard bucket to catch them all.

As the quarters continued to pour out, an older man caught her eye as he passed; well, the man didn't catch her eye, but his hair sure did. Lois almost dropped her bucket. _That has to be Georgie Hairdo! _she thought, _Nobody can have a pompador that big and be named anything else. _

She looked back at her winnings, which were still pouring out. If she didn't go after him now she might not get the chance to again and who knew where Clark was. There was a little gray-haired lady at the slot machine next to her. She looked harmless enough.

"Excuse me, can you take this?" Lois asked, "I'll be right back, I just gotta catch somebody."

The old woman happily took the bucket and Lois dashed off after the man without a second thought. "Excuse me, sir?" she called, catching his arm.

The man turned to face her, clearly irritated. "You talking to me?" he snapped.

"Yes, aren't you Georgie Hairdo?"

He laughed. "Do I look like a dead bald guy to you?"

Well, she wasn't expecting _that. _"Excuse me?"

"Georgie Hairdo?" he sneered sarcastically. "He was found floating in the Hobbs River a couple hours ago."

"Oh," Lois said, feeling like a complete idiot, "I'm sorry."

"Well I'm not," the man shot back. "I owed him twenty grand."

He turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving Lois dumbfounded. _Sheesh, talk about insensitive_, she thought. She turned to go back to her machine and collect her winnings, only to find the old lady had split.

"What?!" she cried. "I don't believe it!"

Back at the bar, Bonnie had moved from playing with Clark's tie to examining his hands. "You've got nice hands," she cooed, running her fingers across his palm.

Clark laughed, slightly embarrassed. "Thank you," he said, "I don't think I've ever been complimented on my hands before."

"You can tell a lot about a man by his hands," Bonnie said, sounding almost poetic. She fixed him with an intense gaze and left her hand lingering on his for longer than Clark was comfortable.

When he didn't pull his hand away or buckle under the intensity of her gaze, Bonnie continued. "My daddy used to tell me that a man had to have strong hands to make a difference. With strong hands a man could change the world."

"Is that right?" he replied.

She leaned in. She was through with this hard-to-get façade. If he wouldn't make the first move, then she would.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clark spotted Clyde. Things were about to get interesting…

Clyde stalked into the room, irritated beyond belief that he was stuck with guard duty. His mood only seemed to worsen when after his third round of the place, he found Bonnie practically throwing herself at a perfect stranger at the bar.

Angrily he pushed his way through the crowd. "Hey, hey!" he barked, pushing Clark back in his seat. "Back off, pretty boy. The lady's taken."

Oddly enough, Bonnie didn't look phased. She didn't even take her eyes off Clark when she retorted, "Knock it off, Clyde."

"You're supposed to be watchin' the door until they get here," he snapped.

Clark listened idly, masking his interest by reaching into his pocket and retrieving a few bills, which he laid on the bar. Clyde was his cue to bail. He already had the information he needed. Clyde had unwittingly revealed that Bobby's hunch about something going "down" at the club tonight was correct. His only thought now was convincing Lois that there was nothing more to see here and then return alone later before the action started. "Look, it was nice meeting you," he said to Bonnie. He looked at Clyde, "Both of you, but I have to go and find someone. Excuse me."

Lois caught up with him at the Poker tables. "Clark! Where have you been? I just found out Georgie Hairdo is dead."

Clark frowned. "Well, Bonnie and Clyde are both here. We better call the police." He grabbed her arm to usher her out but she pulled away.

"No, you go," she said bitterly, "I gotta find a gray-haired lady with a bucket of my quarters."

She took off. "Lois!" Clark cried, frustrated. He followed after her, pushing through the crowded club. He needed to find a phone as soon as possible but there was no way he was letting her run off on her own now. Unfortunately, there was also no way of convincing her to leave now.

Clark's thoughts were interrupted when suddenly the room exploded in gunfire. Instinctively, he lunged for Lois, wrapping his arms protectively around her. He didn't need his x-ray vision to see the men with guns filing into the room.

He swung his head around; Clyde had drawn two pistols from his jacket and Bonnie, who had been flirting with a security guard, clocked him in the face and stole his own handgun, turning it on him. The two of them began backing toward the door, guns raised, to meet up with the newcomers. Straight out of the roaring twenties, the men wore pinstripe suits and fedoras, several of them sporting old-style Tommy guns.

"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, for this little interruption," came a thick, Italian voice. The crowd of gangsters parted for an older man, dressed to the hilt in a pinstripe suit and tie, smiling smugly. Clark knew immediately who he was by the scar that marked his face.

Bobby had been right; it was Al Capone, in the flesh once again.

"I just dropped by to inform you that Georgie Hairdo has wisely decided to retire from the hospitality business," he continued. "So from this day forward, this joint is owned by Al Capone."

"Is he serious?" Lois whispered.

Dillinger stepped out from behind Capone and eyed Lois.

Clark stiffened. He didn't like the way Dillinger was staring at her. _Come on, Clark! Think of something!_

Dillinger reached out a hand and caressed the bare skin above Lois' neckline. Lois flinched, but he didn't stop. "Maybe we can make this little cutie our head hostess," he said, smiling strangely. "I was always partial to a lady in red."

_That's enough! _"Leave her alone," Clark said firmly, moving so that his body separated Lois from Dillinger. He pushed the gangster's eager hand away from her.

Dillinger glared at him. It was apparent that the gangster wasn't used to people standing up to him. "Who 'aw you, her big brutha?" he fired back at him, angrily giving Clark a shove that sent him staggering backwards.

Regaining his balance, Clark retaliated, lunging at Dillinger, his only thought to keep the gangster away from Lois.

He was so angry, so eager to protect Lois, he forgot about Clyde.

Suddenly ear-piercing thunder rocketed through the club. Clark felt three taps on his chest in rapid succession and he froze, the realization hitting him like a blow to the head. _I've been shot!_


	11. Dead Man Walking

_Special thanks to jduke, smallvillegirl92, and SamwiseAtHeart. Thanks for the reviews, guys!_

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**METROPOLIS STREETS **

"So what're we gonna do with the body?!" Bonnie demanded, strapped into the passengers seat of Capone's newly "acquired" car.

Clyde ignored her, pressing the accelerator to the max.

"Easy," Capone answered calmly, from where he sat in the back seat. "We get rid of it."

A ghost of a smile crept across Clyde's face. He whipped the car around, sending it screeching down a deserted alley, hitting trash cans and boxes in the process, and throwing Bonnie back against her seat.

Bonnie glared at him. "You didn't have to kill him," she snapped.

Clyde shrugged. "He touched you."

"Yeah, well next time you decide to ice somebody, pick a guy a little bit smaller," Dillinger retorted. "This guy weighs a freakin' ton!"

"Hey, you were the one gettin' frisky with his lady," Clyde fired back.

"Enough, both of you!" Capone interrupted. "Here's a good place. Joey, open the door."

Bonnie sighed as Joey opened the door and the two of them pushed the body out._ Such a waste_, she thought sadly. She watched in the rear view mirror as the body tumbled out of the car and rolled several times until finally crashing into a pile of trash.

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When he was sure no one was around, the "dead body" stood up.

The minutes slipped past and the Clark just stood there, immobilized by his confusion, by a budding rage and the most profound sense of emptiness he had ever known. _What had he just done?_

His job…his life…everything he had ever worked for…it was gone.

It was a good thing that no one from the club had followed them to see where they dumped the body. He had no idea how he would have explained that one.

Dusting himself off, he looked at his jacket where three simmering bullet holes still smoked, and thought of Lois. Lois rushing forward to catch him; Lois touching his face; feeling her tears on his cheek. Her cries of despair had rocked him, so much so that he was almost unable to carry out his spur-the-moment plan. Just hearing the sadness in her voice pained him so much that he was ready to jump to his feet and pound the gangsters clear back into the century where they belonged. But in the seconds it had taken for them to drag him outside, Clark had already weighed the options.

Even if he had spared Lois the pain of "losing" her partner, he would only put her life in danger. Being shot three times at point-blank range would have been a dead-giveaway to his secret life as Superman. Lois would become the #1 target to every enemy Superman had ever made, and there were a lot of them. He couldn't let that happen. And all of the people in the room, every single one of them would know who Clark Kent really was. His life would be forever changed, no matter the choice he made.

He turned, loosening the buttons on his shirt, only to remember he hadn't worn his suit underneath. Swearing under his breath, he retreated deeper into the shadows to find a good place to take off without being seen. But where would he go? He'd have to leave Metropolis…have to leave everything…

…even Lois.

But god, he couldn't leave Lois. Most of all, Lois. No matter how stuck in a rut he was, he had to find a way. The thought of losing her forever was too much, even for his situation to justify.

Things had spiraled out of his control and there was nothing he could do about it. All he knew was that his relationship with Lois was the core of his existence.

He…loved her.

Numbly, Clark leapt into the air. He couldn't return to his apartment…but there was at least one place he could go.

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**CHLOE'S APARTMENT**

Chloe jolted upright at the sound of someone pounding on her door. Blearily, she looked at the clock; it was way past midnight. _Who on earth was pounding on her door at this time of night?_

The urgent knocking continued. Now fully awake, she hopped out of bed, slipping her night-robe on. Whoever it was would succeed in waking up the entire floor by the time she got to them.

She padded her way out of the bedroom and through her living room. "Chloe! It's me!" called a familiar voice.

_Clark. _He must have heard her get out of bed. But what was he doing here? Weren't he and Lois out following a lead? She frowned; _maybe they got into another fight_. She undid the locks and opened the door. _For not being a couple the two of them really_…

…she stopped, all thoughts of her cousin forgotten when she saw her best friend. He looked terrible. His hair was disheveled, his suit jacket and shirt torn in several places. His face was smudged with dirt and his eyes, although bright and alert as ever, were deeply distraught.

He wasn't wearing his glasses. Clark _never _went out in public without his glasses.

"Clark, what …?"

"Shhhhh!" he cut her off, pushing past her into the apartment. It wasn't an uncommon thing; Clark was as welcome in her home as she was in his. They had the kind of relationship where he normally just walked into her apartment and helped himself to whatever was in the fridge; but not tonight. He urgently pushed her aside, returning to the door to peer out into the hall, as if checking to make sure no one was around.

Once he was satisfied no one had seen him come inside, he turned and stumbled into the apartment, all but collapsing onto the sofa with his face in his hands.

Chloe took a seat on the sofa next to him. She kept quiet, knowing that Clark would talk when he was ready. She had lost count the number of times throughout the years she had seen him upset, but she had never seen him _this _distraught. Something serious must have happened.

Several long moments passed before he looked up again. Chloe regarded him carefully. "Which one are you right now?"

Clark grimaced. "Funny you should ask," he replied ruefully. "Clark. Why?"

"Because you're still talking like _him,_" she answered.

"Oh, sorry," he said, switching back to the normal timbre of his voice. He hadn't even realized he was doing it. "I'm really sorry to barge in on you like this Chloe, but I didn't know where else to go."

"Why? What's going on?"

Chloe listened as Clark recapped the entire story, starting with Bobby Bigmouth and ending with his body being dumped downtown.

"I didn't know what else to do," he said. "Lois saw me get shot. Everyone in the club did. There was no way out of it. My secret, my life, Lois, I would lose everything if they knew. They couldn't know, Chloe. Lois couldn't know."

"Not yet, at least," she added.

"I had to fake it, Chloe," he said, more for his own affirmation than for her.

"I don't understand how you pulled it off," she replied. "There was no blood. No bullets. Oh god, Clark, the bullets!"

"I got them," he assured her. In the heat of the moment he had used his super-speed to grab them right out of the air as they bounced harmlessly off his body. He could fake dying all he wanted, but there was no way explaining smashed bullets and no entry wound. Not without explaining the invincible skin, anyway.

"What about the blood?" she asked.

"I think they were too preoccupied with the 'dead body' and a quick getaway to worry about blood," he answered. It had probably helped as well that his suit jacket had been buttoned up at the time, giving the illusion that the blood would have been underneath.

"Well, one thing's for sure," she said, "We've gotta get you out of Metropolis. If anyone sees you, your secret is as good as out."

He ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture. "I know. I've been thinking about that. At least until I can get something figured out."

"Until _we_ can get something figured out," she corrected him. "What about your parents? We can hang out there for a few days."

Clark blew out a long breath. "My suit, it's at the apartment."

"You didn't wear it and you knew there might be trouble?" Chloe cried.

"I wasn't expecting the trouble to get out of control like that!" Clark fired back at her, a little more forcefully then he had meant to. It was true, he hadn't thought Capone and his thugs would be bold enough to charge through the front door, guns blazing, but he had also done it because, secretly, if trouble did happen, he wanted to rise to the occasion as Clark Kent. He wanted Lois to love Clark, not Superman. It had been a foolish thought and it made him angry enough to shout at his best friend.

When Chloe shrank back at his outburst, Clark caught himself. He ran a hand over his face, chiding himself for letting himself lose it like that, especially to Chloe. "I'm sorry Chlo," he said softly.

"It's all right," she replied. She knew her friend well enough to understand that he hadn't meant it. Alien superhero or no, he was still human. As the Man-of-Steel, it wasn't often that he found himself in situations he wasn't able to handle, but this time was different altogether because this time it wasn't Superman in trouble, it was Clark.

"How long until you can be ready?" Clark asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

"Just gimme a few minutes to change and grab some clothes," she answered.

Clark nodded. He was lucky to have a friend like Chloe; no, he was blessed to have a friend like her. He put his face in his hands. Lois's sobs were still fresh in his memory and it pained him to think about it. How on earth was he going to fix this?


	12. One Lousy Second

_Big thanks to Freakk66, smallvillegirl92, and SamwiseAtHeart for reviewing my Chapter 11. I soooo appreciate it, guys! If there is anyone I missed, I apologize now and say I do appreciate you, but I don't think that the alerts and the reviews were working properly there for a week or so._

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**THE DAILY PLANET **

Jimmy sauntered through the office, not bothering to pay attention to where he was going. The halls of the _Daily Planet_ seemed darker than they had been yesterday, the faces of his coworkers more dismal. The _Planet_ itself seemed quieter, and not at all like the bustling, busy place it normally was.

No one met his eyes as he passed them. Everyone minded their own business, content to dwell in their own thoughts than to discuss the past night's happenings.

Somehow, Jimmy found himself standing in front of Perry's office. Automatically, he reached for the doorknob before pausing one last time to look at the newspaper transcript he clutched in his hand.

The transcript read: REPORTER KILLED IN LINE OF DUTY; Subtitle: Body Still Missing.

Jimmy swallowed. His hand fell from the doorknob. Instead of reaching for it again, he knocked.

Inside his office, Perry looked up from his report. Jimmy stood outside.

"Uh…come on in Jimmy," he said.

Opening the door, Jimmy quietly stepped inside, a folded transcript in his hands. He didn't say anything as he shut the door behind him. The kid looked bad, like he hadn't gotten much sleep. The dark bags under his eyes said as much as he looked at the Chief.

Even if he hadn't known why the kid was upset, Perry would have been able to tell immediately that something was wrong. Usually the kid marched in his office without so much as a knock, smiling and immediately interrupting Perry from whatever it was he was doing at the moment to tell him about whatever lead he had just heard about or about some problem he was having with his latest girlfriend. Jimmy would cross the room and put down whatever it was in his hands and then lean optimistically over the Chief's shoulder while he spoke louder than he really needed to being so close to Perry's ear.

Not today. Today, Jimmy quietly approached the desk and opened the transcript with trembling hands. "Um…Uh…I'm…I'm sorry to bother you…Chief," he stuttered, not looking up from the paper. "Uh…I don't know what…"

He stopped, for fear that if he continued his voice would crack.

But Perry had heard it. The kid was hurting and it broke the newspaper editor's heart. He swiveled his chair, the father figure inside of him ready to console the tormented youth. He could see the unshed tears in his eyes that he was so obviously struggling to contain.

Jimmy tried to study the transcript but it was like he was looking right through it. Finally, something inside him broke and he shut the transcript angrily.

"This can't be happening," he said tersely. He hadn't wanted to trouble Perry with his issues, but coming into the Chief's office, where they'd had so many talks and meetings with Clark…

Jimmy collapsed into the chair that sat in front of Perry's desk. "You don't check out in your twenties," he said, putting his face in his hands.

Seeing Jimmy in so much pain, knowing that he himself thought of Clark more than just an employee, Perry swallowed in an effort to keep his own emotion in check. Jimmy needed someone to be strong for him and it sure wasn't going to be Lois. "Now son, I…I know it's hard to accept…Clark was a…well, he was something special."

Hearing Clark's name brought a fresh wave of tears to Jimmy's eyes and he fought to keep them in. He blew out a frustrated breath.

Perry continued, a wistful sort of look crossing his face as one of his most valued memories with Clark came to his memory. "You know, I remember the first time he came in here looking for a job. Full of that confidence that you get when you don't know any better…"

The Chief paused, searching his memory. "I…uh…I owed him a favor. You see, he saved my life once, when he was about your age."

"C.K. saved your life, Chief?"

Perry smiled. "Yep, but that's not why I hired him. That kid was the fastest typist I'd ever seen, and talented to boot."

Jimmy stopped and studied him, as if it was the first story Perry had ever told that was actually worth listening to. His tale, however, was stopped short when the door opened and an office assistant poked his head inside. Jimmy recognized the man but didn't bother trying to remember the name. The chubby man fixed his glasses and gave Perry an apologetic look. "Mr. White – Jacques is on the phone. He wants to know when we're going to reschedule the party."

Perry didn't answer. He looked at Jimmy. The kid was staring at the floor, his lower lip trembling.

So much grief. How could one man affect so many people? A determined look crossed the Editor-in-Chief's face. He turned back to the office assistance and said, "We're not rescheduling. Party's on for tonight."

The office assistant nodded glumly and left without another word, closing the door behind him.

"I don't think anybody's in the mood for a party, Chief," Jimmy said when he'd gone.

"Let me tell you something Jimmy," Perry fired back. "The _Daily Planet_ is a lot more than just paper and ink. Now by honoring the _Planet_ tonight, we honor Clark. Everything he stood for."

Jimmy shifted in his seat. Perry could tell he was struggling to understand.

"Now Jimmy," he said, grabbing the transcript from his desk. "I want you to run this down to the press room."

He stood and Jimmy obediently followed suit, wiping the tears from his eyes with his shirtsleeve. Putting his arm affectionately around the young man's shoulder, Perry handed him the transcript. "We still got a newspaper to get out."

Jimmy nodded and took the transcript from him. Perry gave him one last pat on the back before seeing him off. He watched the young man leave and hoped that his words at least did some good.

-------------------------

Lois passed Jimmy, who was just leaving Perry's office. The young man looked incredibly upset. As Jimmy walked off he ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair in a frustrated gesture. He didn't even seem to notice her.

It didn't matter. She didn't want to see or talk to anyone.

The pain at losing her best friend had come in stages. First there had been the horror and the shock, the sheer disbelief that Clark was dead; shot right before her eyes. Then later, when the police escorted her home, came the denial. She'd been oddly detached for the duration of the trip, staring out the window of the police car, knowing somewhere deep in her heart that Clark was alive and well and that tomorrow he'd be late for work _again _with some lame excuse that never ceased to infuriate her. Now, she felt the sadness and the…emptiness…

She had no doubt now – that he loved her. He had loved her more than his own life. Tears glistened in Lois' eyes. Stepping off the elevator and into the _Planet_ was all it took for her already frayed emotions to re-ignite. She walked blankly through the offices, everything reminding her of Clark.

The coffee pot at the top of the stairs where Clark would bring her a cup of coffee every morning if she didn't already have one. The copy machine that never seemed to work for her but would miraculously start working when Clark walked into the room. His desk, right across from hers, where she would sometimes watch him when he wasn't paying attention. The phone he'd been talking on only hours before. The doodles that marked his calendar and notebooks.

She numbly made her way to her desk, every nook and cranny of the room bringing something back to her. It was all too much, and yet not enough.

Perry saw Lois walking blankly through the office. If he had thought Jimmy looked bad, Lois looked terrible. Dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants, Lois walked like a shell-shocked warrior. Her face was red, her eyes rimmed with tears. She looked tired, like she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep since it happened.

She found her desk and sat down at it, not bothering to turn on the computer.

The heartbreak that was etched into her every feature was almost too much for Perry to see. First Jimmy, and now Lois. He had to do something.

"Lois?" he said softly, approaching her desk.

Lois gave a start and looked up. Perry was leaning on her desk, a look of concern on his face, looking very much like a father. She hadn't even heard him come up beside her. "You didn't have to come to work today," he was saying, "Chloe stayed home. She called in this morning."

Lois blew out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I couldn't stay home," she said, covering her face with her hands.

Perry could tell she was on the verge of losing it. It was an odd sight, really, seeing Lois so vulnerable. She wasn't the passionate, fiery news reporter he had always known her to be. She looked small, frail, and in so very much pain.

Lois chewed distractedly on her hand, trying desperately to will the pain away. What had she been thinking coming here? There was even more here at the _Daily Planet_ to remind her of the partner she'd lost.

It shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't have died that way. They shouldn't have gone to that club. Lois had tried telling herself that it hadn't been her fault, that there wasn't anything she could have done, but she couldn't help but feel it was all a lie.

More than anything, Perry wanted to comfort her. He knew that there were few people in the world that Lois Lane trusted. In fact, he was sure he could count them on one hand, but he knew, with no small amount of pride, that he had always been one of them. He knew from their talks that Lois's father had not been the man he should have been, which probably explained Lois's fierce independence. As far as he knew, Lois had always been alone. That is, until Perry had forced a partner on her.

Perhaps it had been a ploy to get Lois out of her shell. It may even have been a test to see if she could be a team player. Whatever it had been that gave Perry the wild idea to pair her up with the newbie, Clark Kent, Lois Lane had become a changed person. It had taken a while; Clark and Lois had even disliked each other at first. Perry remembered the first day he had paired them. Lois hadn't been thrilled with being forced to work with a novice and she had snapped at Clark, "I make the decisions, understand?" And just to further accentuate her dominance, she added, "I am top banana, you are low man, got it?"

Perry almost smiled at the memory of Clark's response to her. He had to admit, the kid had been witty. "Got it. You like to be on top."

As the months of their partnership progressed, Perry not only saw the potential in the two as a team, he saw their relationship grow closer. They were always together, best friends, could have been even more if given time.

They were…had been… a dynamite team, always one step ahead of the _Planet_'s competitors with stories about Superman, Metropolis' flying defender. Lois and Clark always seemed to be in the right place at the right time to pick up the scoop on him, sometimes even putting their own lives in jeopardy to get the job done.

Pairing Lois and Clark had been one of the best and worst decisions Perry could ever have made.

Beneath him, Lois suppressed a shiver and Perry could see she was fighting a battle she could not win alone. He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, just to let her know he was there.

That one, simple gesture, was all it took to break down her defenses.

Lois wilted, never raising her eyes to look at the Chief. "I just keep thinking about Clark…lying there," she said, "I feel…like it's all my fault he was killed."

Perry's heart went out to her. "Awwww, honey, you can't blame yourself," he said, "You had no way of knowing what was going to happen."

"No," Lois said, shaking her head, "He died trying to protect me."

For the first time, Lois looked up at Perry, her beautiful eyes sunken and filled to the brim with unshed tears, and Perry almost lost it himself. Her eyes confirmed what she felt in her soul.

Lois had loved him. Loved him with her whole being. They were two halves of one soul, never experiencing full completeness until they had found each other. And they had been too stubborn to admit it.

Her voice cracked with the same anguish her eyes radiated, "In one…lousy second…I lost my partner…and my best friend."

Perry looked away, stunned by the depth of her emotion. He couldn't meet her eyes again, full well knowing that if he did he would be overwhelmed by his own grief, and he needed to be strong, if only for her.

Lois lowered her head, a sorrowful, far-away look glazing over her eyes. "He died without ever knowing," she said softly. "I never told him."

"Ms. Lane," a voice said, and Perry looked up to see a uniformed police officer standing over her desk. He looked on the grief-stricken woman and politely waited for her to acknowledge him. "I'm sorry to bother you," he continued, lowering his voice, "I'm Detective Wolfe, Homicide. I need to get your signature on the statement you gave us."

Reaching a hand into his coat pocket he produced the necessary paperwork. Lois only nodded as he put the statement on the desk in front of her, offering her a pen as well.

"You guys got any leads on these animals?" Perry growled.

"Not yet, but we will," the detective said confidently. Lois finished signing the paperwork just as the officer's cell phone began to ring. He took the papers from her before answering it. "Wolfe," he snapped into the receiver. "Yeah. Has it been confirmed?" He grabbed the nearest paper, Lois's telephone log, and began scribbling an address down. "Look, we have 14 possibles on Capone's whereabouts…Okay, just add it to the list."

He hung up without saying goodbye.

Lois wasn't sure what happened next, but the world around her became a blur as she stared at the carbon copy of her telephone log. The imprint from the detective's note said 1500 OLD NORTH ROAD. She heard Detective Wolfe tell her that they would work on Clark's case day and night and that he would keep her posted. Then she heard Perry ask if she wanted to grab some coffee and talk.

She shook her head no, only vaguely aware that he had asked her a question. She felt him lean down to give her a hug and then he was gone. She stared at the carbon copy for several long minutes, her thoughts already forming…_1500 Old North Road…_


	13. Aftermath

_Bunches of thanks to smallvillegirl92, Nora99, Freakk66, SamwiseAtHeart, and karose10 for your reviews!_

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**SMALLVILLE **

Martha Kent couldn't help but feel for her son as she pushed a stray strand of her long, red hair away of her face. Clark was pacing like a caged animal, the frustration becoming more and more evident with every step he took. He had flown in last night, Chloe with him, not knowing where else to go. Martha had taken his ruined suit jacket and shirt and inspected the bullet holes. Sure enough, all three of them would have been killing shots. Even if they hadn't been, there wasn't makeup in the world to create scars like that. Now he was dressed in comfortable blue jeans and a blue flannel shirt. He looked like the boy who had left home intent on making a life in Metropolis, not the fearless reporter who wore suits and ties to the _Daily Planet_. Martha wasn't sure if she liked the change.

"I didn't know what else to do," Clark said sadly, "I had to pretend I was dead or everyone would know I was Superman."

Still pacing, Clark passed his father, Jonathan, who was stacking jars of jam on the lower shelves of their cellar. Chloe had taken a seat on the wooden steps where, for the moment, she was keeping quiet. Jonathan knew that she was allowing Clark to vent. She had probably heard the story in full immediatley after it happened. The young reporter, usually so outspoken and full of energy, had the same look of helplessness on her face they all probably had at the moment. As frustrating as it was, there was little more any of them could do for him.

Jonathan frowned; he hated it that he had little words of wisdom to offer his son, who more-often-than-not faced dangers on a daily basis that even his parents could barely fathom.

"And now…everything that I've worked for…my job, my friends, my life … it's over."

Martha tried to encourage him."You did what you thought was best."

"I talked to Perry while you were in the shower," Chloe spoke up.

Clark seemed to jump at the mention of Perry's name. "Did he say anything about Lois?"

Chloe frowned, "Just that she was taking it really hard."

Clark was torn. He had no idea his death would hurt Lois so much. He tried to see the positive side of the story, that now he knew how deeply she cared for him, but it was impossible. All he could picture was the woman he loved, crying because she thought she had lost him.

Frustrated, Clark sighed. "I guess that should make me feel a little better," he replied, "But it doesn't. I wish I could be there for her."

_But I can't because I'm dead_, he thought bitterly.

Jonathan brightened, "Clark, you can. As Superman."

He was only trying to make his son feel better, but even the thought of living the rest of his life as Superman was enough to make Clark want to turn in the cape.

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Dad, Superman doesn't work at the_ Daily Planet_," he said. "He doesn't go to ballgames with Jimmy and Perry. He hasn't listened to Lois go off on some weird tangent and secretly love it."

Martha sighed as Clark began to pace again. It hurt her to see her son in so much pain. Her mother instinct kicked in and she tried to encourage him in the only way she knew how. "But you'll still be able to see them," she insisted.

"Yeah, but not the way I want," Clark retorted. "They all treat me so different as Superman."

"Especially Lois," Chloe added.

It was true, so true. Affectionately nicknamed "C.K." by Jimmy, Clark was probably the kid's closest friend and mentor. Superman was the boy's hero, but Jimmy looked up to Clark, as much as a big brother. Perry respected Superman, as both a friend and a good man, but Perry adored Clark, still referring to both he and Lois as "kids" whenever he addressed them. He spent time with him outside of the office and was always ready to give out advice and Elvis stories whenever the time arose. And then there was Lois, and that was where the subject got sticky. Clark was Lois' best friend and partner, but Superman was the object of Lois' obsession. She even kept a picture of him in her wallet. Lois had been love-struck over Superman since the first time she'd seen him, but she didn't know the real man behind the cape.

Well, she did, but she just didn't know it.

Lois had once said to Superman, _"Even if you were an ordinary guy, living an ordinary life, I'd still love you just as much."_ But it couldn't be true, because she didn't love Clark that way. Lois could never love him unless she knew the _real _him, and Superman wasn't the _real _Clark.

"All we can say is, a lot of people you care about are still in danger," his father said, pulling him back to reality.

"And Metropolis needs Superman," Martha added.

A rooster crowed from somewhere outside. Clark sat on the steps next to Chloe and put his head in his hands, "Yeah, well, I wouldn't even know where to start looking for them."

"You said you had seen these guys before, at a bank robbery," Jonathan said.

Martha picked up where his train of thought was going, "That's right. Did you notice anything there?"

"No," Clark shook his head. Then he stopped, "No, wait. I did pick up a movie ticket stub that Dillinger dropped."

"Wait a minute? A ticket stub?" Chloe asked excitedly. "Clark, that's it!"

"What?"

"Don't you remember the research we did? Dillinger was a big movie buff. The police caught him coming out of a theatre 60 years ago!"

"Lady in a red dress," he said, remembering the conversation they had with Lois and Jimmy._ How long ago was that? _It felt like forever.

He pulled the stub out of his wallet and looked at it. "Well, it's worth a try."

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**PROFESSOR EMIL HAMILTON'S APARTMENT **

1500 OLD NORTH ROAD. Lois glanced back at the carbon copy she clutched in her hand. _Well, looks like this is the place._

As quietly as possible, Lois crept around the side of the building, keeping to the shadows. There didn't appear to be anyone home, but that didn't mean the place was empty.

There was a low window on the east side of the building. It was locked.

Not a problem…

With an expert _chink, _she broke it and slid the window open.

Inside, the apartment was dark. Not wasting any time on stealth, Lois slipped inside, carefully putting the window back in place, but unlocked, in case she needed to make a quick getaway.

After her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a normal apartment: a kitchen, dining room, living room. There were dirty dishes in the sink and poker chips on the table, the chairs angled at awkward positions as if a game had been taking place before they got up and left. Nothing appeared to be suspicious or out of place.

There was a light at the far end of the room; a small, crack of light coming through the space between the door and the ground. Lois made her way to it, tiptoeing as carefully as she could.

As she drew nearer, she began to hear sounds. Nothing discernable, but there was definitely somebody beyond that door. She turned the handle, only to find it was also locked.

_Odd_, she thought. There weren't many doors that locked from both sides. _Unless the person on the other side was locked in by someone on the outside._

"Lucky for you, Mad Dog Lane is an expert at breaking locks," Lois uttered under her breath as she pulled a pin from her hair. In less than a minute she had the door open.

The first thing she noticed was the bubbling noise.

The second thing was a single glass capsule in the center of room, about 7 foot in length and 3 feet wide. The capsule was filled to the brim with clear liquid; long, thick tubes jutting out from the top and bottom connected to various monitors and machines. The rest of the room had been converted into a makeshift laboratory, with tubes, bottles and beakers of strange liquids lining the shelves. A desk was behind the door, littered with yellow sticky notes and notebooks of research.

A slight man, wearing a white lab coat, was tucked away in the corner of the room, gagged and bound to a chair.

"Professor Hamilton," Lois said aloud, recognizing him immediately from his picture.

"Who…who are you?" he stuttered when she removed the gag.

"Lois Lane, _Daily Planet_."

"The Press? I…I don't understand. Are the police with you?" he asked, hopefully.

"No," she answered. "I came here following a lead." She moved to untie his hands. "Professor - Is it true? Did you create Capone and the others?"

The little man stood up, massaging his wrists. He didn't meet Lois' eyes when he said, "I'm afraid so. I thought I could change them, but I can't control them anymore."

Lois looked at the bubbling vat of goo, a flash of annoyance getting the better of her. This man was directly responsible for Clark's death and _now _he was regretting it??! "If your experiment was such a disaster then why didn't you stop?" she asked bitterly.

"It's Capone!" Professor Hamilton cried. "He said he'd kill me if I didn't continue. He's making me regenerate more of his old gang!"

Despite herself, Lois' jaw dropped. _More of them?_

"Who?" she asked.

The little man nodded toward the capsule. "Baby Face Nelson."

Her reporter's curiosity peaked, Lois peered into the liquid where, beneath the surface, she could just make out the beginnings of a human skeleton. It was almost sickening. "So there's a person in that?!"

"It will be, if we don't stop them." The little scientist wrung his hands nervously. To Lois' surprise, he looked truly upset. "Oh, Miss Lane, you must believe me. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I wanted to benefit mankind."

"Hollywood's created over a dozen versions of Frankenstein and you still didn't get the point," Lois replied, shaking her head. They needed to get out of there and, as Clark would say, get the police. She smiled sadly. Taking the Professor by the shoulders she pushed him toward the door. There wasn't anything she could do for Clark at this point except get the Professor to safety and get the police on the trail of his murderers. "Come on, we gotta get you out of here," she said.

The Professor didn't argue as she hustled him out of the lab. It was still quiet in the apartment; albeit a tad unnerving. "Do you know where they are now?" she asked.

"No, no, they never tell me anything," he stuttered, grabbing his coat.

Lois pulled out her cell phone, already dialing for the police when she saw the Professor freeze with his hand on the door handle. Voices could be heard coming down the hall. She shut her cell phone and concentrated on the voices. Sure enough, it was Capone's voice. And it was getting closer.


	14. Busted

_As always, thanks are in order to my friends Freakk66 (PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME! PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME! – AAAHHHH! You got that song stuck in my head:D LOL), smallvillegirl92, SamwiseAtHeart, and batfan7 for your reviews!_

_**A/N: **__I was out of town just over the weekend and finally had some time to go back and correct some of them stupid mistakes that you totally miss the first time around because the spell-checker won't catch them. Like – I don't know how many "suites" I had instead of "suits"! Does anybody else ever do that?!_

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**THE METROPOLIS CINEPLEX**

Chloe glanced at her watch again. It was almost time for the afternoon matinee to be over at the Metropolis Cineplex. Like a watchful gargoyle, Clark crouched next to her, fully garbed in his Superman costume. His striking blue eyes were fixed on the street below; they had a perfect view of the entrance of the theatre from their rooftop perch. They took turns watching the door and although it was Chloe's turn, Clark was too restless to take a breather.

He had been silent most of the trip from Smallville back to Metropolis. Chloe knew it was because he had a lot on his mind. She couldn't blame him; there was a possibility that his life had irrevocably changed for the worst.

She couldn't help but remember all of the conversations they had had, especially shortly after Clark had decided to take on the "dual identity." She had once ventured to ask him who he felt he "really was"; after all, with a dual identity, one of them had to be false. Strangely enough, however, both identities had turned out to be correct. It was almost as if he had split himself in two; Clark was the mild mannered farm boy, sensitive, thoughtful, and willing to do anything for his friends, whereas Superman was bold, confident, and possessed of a sense of duty and responsibility indelibly instilled in heart and mind.

With two very different identities to cope with, Chloe felt that it would only be a matter of time before Clark succumbed to some sort of identity crisis, so she asked him flat out, which one was the mask? Clark Kent or Superman?

His answer had both shocked and pleased her. "Clark is who I am," he said, with a knowing smile. "Superman is what I can do."

It made so much sense after that.

She looked through her binoculars again. Clark didn't need them, of course, courtesy of his superior vision. People had begun to exit the building below, flowing out into the street to their cars or hailing taxis. Chloe's sharp eyes took in everything, scanning every person for familiar features. Nothing.

Several minutes passed as the ebb and flow of the crowd began to dissipate. At first, she spotted nothing suspicious. Chloe was just about to give up and suggest they try another theatre, when suddenly – _there! _Her keen eyes zeroed in on a brown felt fedora making its way through the crowd. "Clark!" she cried.

"I see him!" he called, and then he was gone.

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John Dillinger hustled out of the theatre, deftly weaving his way through the throng of people. He kept his head down; there were benefits to a life of crime, but there were also annoying little side effects – like somebody recognizing you.

After he broke away from the crowd, he ducked into a back alley, pondering the film. He had to admit – movies today were good. _So much color, so much action…I could really get use ta this_, he thought, whistling to himself. They could do things today with… _oh what was it the Professor called 'em? Computers! That's it…_they could do things today with computers that 60 years ago he could not have even dreamed of. There was definitely something missing, though. They just didn't make the movie-pictures like they used to.

Suddenly, a streak of blue and red flashed in the corner of his peripheral vision, followed by a gust of wind that nearly knocked the fedora off his head. Before he knew what was happening, a man swooped down from the sky and landed right on front of him. _Landed right in front of him!!_

"Whoa! When did people start to fly?!" Dillinger cried, too freaked out to move.

Superman glared at him, crossing his arms across his chest. "Not long before they started coming back from the dead. Enjoy the movie?" he asked, keeping his voice level – at least, for now, to hide the fact that he was absolutely furious inside.

"Hey, I know you," Dillinger said, recognition dawning on him, "You're that bullet-proof guy from the bank!"

"And you're in big trouble," Superman answered, stepping toward him.

Dillinger stiffened, raising his hands in front of him as if he meant no trouble and backed up. Ridiculous costume or no, that was a really _big _guy….

"How did you find me?" he asked, his eyes wide.

The big man produced a ticket stub and held it out for Dillinger to see. "The same way the FBI found you back in 1934 – coming out of the Biograph Theater. I guess old habits die hard, huh?"

Dillinger didn't wait for Superman to finish. He turned and bolted for the nearest alley.

As idiotic a move as it was, especially after already having seen what the big guy could do, Dillinger was surprised to find Superman already there when he rounded the corner.

The gangster's mouth dropped open in shock. "How did you….?"

He was silenced by a big hand that shot out to grab the collar of his suit. "I can fly– remember?" Superman said irritably. "Now I've got one for you: Where's Capone and the rest of his thugs?"

Dillinger collected himself enough to try a smile. "I don't rat," he said, attempting to keep his voice even.

Superman smiled. "Really?"

-------------------------

**PROFESSOR EMIL HAMILTON'S APARTMENT**

Lois urgently grabbed onto the Professor's arm. "It's Capone!" she whispered. "Do you have another way out of here?"

"No!" he answered anxiously.

The voices were getting closer; it would be a matter of moments before they would be right at the door.

Lois looked around frantically.

"How'd you get in?" the Professor stammered.

"Through a window in the bedroom," _which just so happens to be on the other side of the apartment! _

"There's no way we can make it in time," the Professor moaned.

The voices were practically on top of them.

They had to act quickly. "There!" Lois cried, pointing toward the living room. She gave the Professor a shove in that direction.

"What?!" he cried, alarmed and confused.

"The closet! Hide!"

The little scientist reacted with all due speed, staggering toward the closet and climbing inside. Lois followed and they shut the door just in time to hear the front door open.

-------------------------

**METROPOLIS **

The ground disappeared beneath Dillinger's feet, replaced by nothing but empty air. In a panic, he grasped onto the only solid object within his reach - Superman - who had an iron grip on his shirt collar. They were flying!

In no time at all they were thousands of feet in the air, on top of the tallest building in Metropolis. The howling wind of early autumn had a noticeable chill at this height and it whipped at Superman's cape as he sat Dillinger down on the edge of the roof in front of him.

"One more time," Superman said icily, "Where's Capone?"

Dillinger looked down at the hectic street below. A ten-story plunge beckoned precariously. He wasn't ready to surrender his usefulness just yet.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Dillinger chortled, forcing a smile. "I know your type. You good guys don't ever hurt nobody."

Superman crossed his arms in front of him, squaring his shoulders and drawing himself to his full, intimidating height. Sometimes during interrogations, intimidation was more effective than threats. In this case, he planned on using both. "That was before you killed Clark Kent. He was a very good friend of mine."

The blood drained from Dillinger's face and Superman had to hide a smile at the gangster's so obvious discomfort. As an added bonus, he took the fedora right of Dillinger's head and tossed it over the side, allowing the gangster a few moments to watch it drop.

"I…uh…I didn't know you guys were so close," Dillinger replied. His voice was touched with an edge that was bordering panic.

"As close as two people can get! Now where's Capone?"

Hearing the name of his boss seemed to give Dillinger a boost of confidence. A crafty smirk crossed his face. "I don't rememba'."

To his surprise, Superman nodded. "Okay," he said calmly, "maybe it'll come back to you on the way down."

Delaying a beat to allow what he had said to sink in, Superman waited until the eyes of his enemy had registered the threat…

…then he pushed Dillinger off the roof.

A panicked shriek tore out of Dillinger's lungs, his arms and legs flailing, as he plummeted a full 9 stories toward the unyielding cement ground before Superman swooped down and caught him.

"What about now?" Superman asked. "As fun as that was for me, I have been known to miss on occasion…"

-------------------------

**PROFESSOR EMIL HAMILTON'S APARTMENT**

Lois had just pulled the closet door closed when the door to the Professor's apartment opened.

"What's the matter with this town?" Capone's voice griped. "The Boy Scouts take it over? I offer 100 grand and nobody's interested in selling out."

Bonnie's voice answered, "I remember when you could have bought three Congressman and a judge for half that."

"Yeah, well, I guess they call 'em the good ol' days for a reason," Clyde quipped.

From the sounds of it, only the three of them had entered and nobody had gotten any further than the kitchen.

_Good, they haven't noticed the Professor's gone yet, _Lois thought. She wanted to move her arm from where it was smashed up against the wall, but she thought better of it. Coats on either side of them and boxes at their feet made it near impossible to move without making any noise. It was cramped in the tight space that she and the Professor had managed to squeeze into, and completely dark. She hoped the Professor wasn't claustrophobic.

"Well, I'm through playing nicey-nice with these people," Capone was saying. "If I can't buy 'em, then I'm gonna eliminate 'em."

"Joey found out they're havin' a little get together tonight at that _Planet_ newspaper place, boss," Bonnie said.

_The Planet? _Lois' attention was suddenly at full, forgetting her current predicament. _What would they want with the Planet?_

"Yeah, anybody worth ownin' is gonna be there," Capone continued. "You think it's still bad manners these days to crash the party?"

Lois held her breath as high-heeled footsteps walked across the room toward the closet. "Not if you bring a gift," came Bonnie's voice, dangerously close to their hiding place.

Immediately when Bonnie drew closer, the Professor started to sniffle.

Lois' throat constricted. This was bad. Very bad. "Don't you dare," she mouthed.

The Professor's eyes were watering. He clamped his mouth shut in an effort to hold it back, but it was no use.

In a panic, Lois even tried putting her finger under his nose. It may have always worked in the movies, but in this situation it was more comical than probable.

"ACHOOOO!"

The closet door swung open.

They were busted.


	15. Cement Shoes

_Thanks to Freakk66, smallvillegirl92, SamwiseAtHeart, karose10, and batfan7 for your reviews!_

-------------------------

**THE METROPOLIS CINEPLEX**

After dropping Dillinger off at the police department, Superman sped back to the rooftop where Chloe was waiting for him. She had already put away her gear and was sitting watching the city below.

"You would think that by now I would remember to bring a book to read while I wait for you to get back from crime fighting," she said.

Despite himself, Superman chuckled. "Come on, I wasn't gone that long."

She flashed him a grin, glad to see him finally lighten up. Perhaps things were looking up? "So who am I talking to now?"

He screwed up his face. "Me."

"Me who? 'Me' as in Superman or 'Me' as in Clark?"

"I'm your best friend and you can't tell?"

"Not when you talk like Superman but you stand there like Clark."

_Dang it_, he thought, realizing she was right. Slouching helped to keep his real height somewhat hidden, shortening him by several inches. It was just one more attempt to make Clark and Superman look like two totally different people. "Oh," he replied guiltily.

"Take it easy, I'm just messing with you," she countered and punched his shoulder, taking care not to hit too hard and bruise her hand. "Nobody knows you like I do. It's good to see you smile."

"I have good reason to smile," he answered. He pulled a piece of paper out of his sleeve and handed it to her. "I got a confession out of Dillinger before I turned him in. Here's the last known address for Professor Emil Hamilton."

"How'd you get Dillinger to talk?" she asked, surprised.

There was a mischievous spark in his eye, "Let's just say, he was afraid of heights."

"_Somebody saaaaaaavvveee meee!" _Chloe's cell phone cut through their musings. _"Let your waters break right through, Somebody saaaaavvve meee!"_

"It's the office," she said. The music stopped abruptly when she answered with a brisk, "Chloe Sullivan. Oh, hi Jimmy. Dillinger's in custody? That's great… No, I haven't seen her… Superman?… Yeah, if I see him I'll let him know… Thanks… Bye."

"What's up?"

"Nobody can find Lois. Jimmy said she left the office this morning but she never came back and her apartment is deserted. She won't answer any calls. Perry's afraid she's gone out looking for your killers and asked if I saw Superman if I could let him know."

Clark grimaced. Going out to look for his killers was _exactly _what Lois Lane would do. "I better go look for her. I'll head over to the _Planet, _see if Jimmy or Perry can get me any details."

"I'm gonna head on over to this…" she read the address, "…1500 Old North Road; see what I can dig up there."

"Chloe…"

"Don't 'Chloe' me. You can't be in two places at once, Clark. We need to find Lois _and _track these guys down before they cause any more damage."

"Damage? Chloe, these guys _murdered_ me," he stressed, "I don't want you going anywhere near that place."

"Clark, we're a team," she said. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I do, but…"

"All right then, it's settled. You go find Lois and I'll check out Hamilton's place."

The finality in her voice left no room for argument, even from Superman. Reluctantly, Clark caved. He knew better than anyone that Chloe could take care of herself – it was the Lane blood in her. Unfortunately, that same Lane blood also had the knack for getting into trouble. "All right, but promise me if anyone's there you won't go inside alone."

"Promise." She grabbed her purse. "Take your cell phone. I want to be able to get a hold of you if I find anything."

"Cell phone?"

"Yes, your cell phone."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

He laughed. "This outfit doesn't exactly have pockets, Chlo."

She stopped, considering the suggestion she had just made, and laughed aloud. "Why can't you have a utility belt like a normal superhero?"

-------------------------

**CONSTRUCTION SITE: OUTSIDE METROPOLIS**

_This doesn't look good, _Lois thought anxiously, taking in her surroundings. After the Professor's allergies had busted them back at the apartment, the gangsters wasted no time tying them up and hustling them out the door. They were shoved into the backseat of a limo, in between two nasty looking gangsters with Tommy guns. Lois recognized one of them as Joey, the kid who had helped drag Clark's body out of the club.

…_Clark…._

…_No, don't think about that now! Gotta get outta here! Come on, Lois, think!_

She took in everything as fast as she could, knowing that it could help later if she and the Professor were actually able to escape. Through the tinted windows of the limo she thought it looked like they were driving into an abandoned construction site. The lights of Metropolis were a fair distance away. There wouldn't be help arriving anytime soon. _Damn, if only I'd told somebody where I was going!_

"Get your hands off me!" Lois snapped angrily at Joey as he roughly pulled her out of the limo. Both she and the Professor were frisked. Joey removed her keys and cell phone from her jean's pockets.

"Mr. Capone? Sir? I think you're making a mistake, sir," the Professor spluttered. "I mean, who are you going to get to bring back more of your friends without me?"

Capone made a motion with his hand and turned on his heel. The two hostages were shoved after the crime boss, forced to follow him. "Luckily, Professor, you wrote everything down," he said, puffing on his stogie. "I'm sure I can find an egghead in Metropolis willing to make a few bucks and a lot easier to work with than you."

"Hey Boss," Clyde said, motioning to a cement truck, "Looks like just what the doctor ordered."

Capone smiled maliciously. "Do it."

At his word, Lois was thrust into a narrow trench, landing hard on her side. The trench, probably the beginning of a building's basement or foundation, was already dug at least 6 foot deep but was unfinished in length. Had Lois' hands been untied, she could have reached out and touched either side. The Professor was next, landing equally as hard with a pitiful groan.

Lois' breath had left her from the impact. She struggled to sit up. "Capone!" she choked. There was no way she was giving up now; no way in hell. "I could help you get to Perry White. We're close. I'm his top reporter."

Capone made a face. "Now why would I need your…?" He was cut off when suddenly a ringing noise him jump with surprise. He looked around, as did both Bonnie and Clyde. Seeing nothing around, he spat, "What in tha' hell is that racket?"

"It's this little box," Joey said, showing his boss the contraption he had taken from the lady reporter's pocket. A section of the top was glowing and it was playing the most _awful _music he had ever heard.

Lois' throat tightened when she heard the music. She felt tears threaten to well up in her eyes. This wasn't the time for grief! _Don't cry, damn it!_

The music was Whitesnake and it had been one of her favorites in high school. Clark had made it a game to steal her phone and irritate her by changing the ringer. The joke spawned years ago on the Valentine's day right after Oliver Queen had dumped her. She was depressed and Chloe, intent on getting her to feel better, dragged her to a party at the Talon. Lois ended up sampling some lipstick from a local vendor. The vendor told her that the lipstick would 'make her forget all her troubles' – and boy, had she been right! The lipstick had been laced with some kind of drug, one Chloe had dubbed 'red kryptonite', and it was as if this substance made her lose all of her inhibitions. She was acting and dressing differently, more aggressive and provocative actually, and even threw herself at Clark. Clark of all people!

The song he had downloaded to her phone and continuously tortured her with was the same song that she had dedicated to him on a CD and given him while she was still under the influence of that damned lipstick. No matter how many times she deleted it, Clark would just download it again. He just wouldn't let her live that one down!

He had changed it again right before he had been killed and Lois didn't have the heart to change it back. "It's my cell phone," she said. "Someone's trying to call me."

"Joey!" Capone barked. He took the phone from him and laughed, looking the gadget over. "Annoying little thing, isn't it?" The crime boss tossed it to Clyde, who caught it and looked it over himself. The music stopped, then immediately started again. _Somebody is really trying to get a hold of me_, Lois thought. _Damn!_

"It's pretty," Bonnie said over his shoulder.

"All right, start 'er up," Capone ordered.

Joey obediently complied, climbing into the cab of the cement truck. The machine roared to life, causing both Lois and the Professor to begin to panic.

"Listen Capone, Perry respects me. He trusts me," Lois cried. "The _Daily Planet_ is the biggest and most respected newspaper in all of Metropolis. If you really want the _Planet_ on your side, I can make that happen. I can convince Perry to work for you."

Bonnie leaned over the side of the trench and snorted rudely. "Doesn't this broad ever stop yammerin'?"

_Oh that does it! _Lois thought angrily. She glared daggers at the flaxen-haired criminal. _I am so going to let her have it when I get out of this pit!_

The close proximity of Bonnie's perfume made the Professor sneeze and it took everything in Lois to not roll her eyes and scream at him in exasperation. It wasn't fair. Wasn't fair! She had come all this way tracking Clark's murderers, come so close to exposing the truth about Dr. Hamilton's work and putting the bastards that killed her partner away for life - and they had been caught because of _allergies!_

Above them, Clyde positioned the cement truck's chute directly over the trench.

"Pull it!" Capone ordered.

"No!" To Lois' utter horror, cement began to pour down into the trench, quickly filling the open space. "No! Wait! You can't just leave us here!"

Capone tipped his hat. "Think of this as a gift, Miss Lane. A blessing, if you will. You'll get to see your partner very soon."

Bonnie snickered; Lois decided she hated her all the more. Then, without another word, the gangsters were gone.

"Help! Somebody help us!" the Professor cried.

Lois looked down. The cement was already at her ankles.

-------------------------

**PROFESSOR EMIL HAMILTON'S APARTMENT **

Chloe glanced at the paper in her hand where the words 1500 OLD NORTH ROAD were scribbled in Clark's messy handwriting. Dillinger's abrupt confession was surprising, but she wouldn't put it past him to lie through his teeth to protect his gang. Superman, however, could be very convincing. She didn't wonder at what he'd had to do to get it.

With that in mind, she planned her course of action carefully. She had parked a fair distance away and had been watching the building for at least 20 minutes to make sure nobody went in or came out. When she was confident the place was deserted, she grabbed her cell phone and slipped out of her car.

She didn't have to worry about stealth crossing the street. It seemed that the entire neighborhood was deserted. There were cars on the street, but no one was about driving and what few lights were on in the surrounding buildings were few and far between. It looked like people kept to themselves in this neighborhood and didn't care much for what was going on around them. No wonder Hamilton picked this neighborhood to set up residence.

Chloe spotted a window on the east side of the building, low enough for her to be able to crawl through. It was unlocked…no, the lock was broken.

_Odd_, she thought. She crawled inside and found herself in a dark bedroom. Venturing into the apartment itself, she began her investigation, looking for anything suspicious or out of place. With practiced precision she conducted a thorough sweep of the entire place, including the laboratory.

There wasn't much. It looked like an ordinary apartment, except that normal apartments didn't have high-tech labs in the spare bedroom; high-tech labs that had weird vats of human-cloning goo in them. Not even the Professor's desk offered anything helpful.

Chloe left the lab, frustrated. She searched the living room, then the kitchen, coming up blank. Next to the kitchen was a large closet, the doors wide open with clothes and boxes lying on the floor like they had tumbled out when the door was opened.

She stopped to sift through the mess. Several notebooks with Professor Hamilton's scientific research notes scribbled in them littered one particular area of the floor. She picked one up and sifted through it. The cover page read DNA MODIFICATION. Just then, something familiar caught her eye. Chloe caught her breath. Lying on the floor, half buried beneath the spilled contents of a shoebox of even more hand-scribbled notes, was Lois' press pass. She bent and picked it up. Lois had been here!

"Lois, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" she muttered.

Putting the pieces together wasn't hard, especially by the looks of the closet. As relieved as she was that there was finally a trail to begin to follow, it would only make things harder if Lois had for sure fallen in with them. Chloe just hoped her cousin was all right.

She needed to contact Clark, let him know what she had found. If Lois had been caught, she didn't have much time. Chloe fished her phone out of her pocket.

With the phone pressed against her ear she first dialed Lois' cell. Nothing. She dialed the _Planet_, picking up where she left off in the Professor's notebook, looking for anything useful...

…what she found almost made her drop the phone.

-------------------------

_**A/N:**__ I hope the 'changing the cell phone music' part wasn't too mushy. I really wanted to bring out the hidden romance here and that was something I used to do to my husband before we were married – only I was more evil! (I would change his ringer to some kind of terrible polka music! You should have seen his face go red if it went off in a public place! It was priceless!) On a side note – does anybody remember what that song was that Lois dedicated to Clark? I know it was a Whitesnake song but I can't remember which one. If anybody remembers, let me know and I'll put it in here. Thanks guys! Almost done. Two – maybe three chapters left. Not sure yet!_


	16. Impossible

_Ah! Second-to-last chapter! Almost done! I want to thank everyone for sticking with me this far – especially Freakk66, smallvillegirl92, SamwiseAtHeart, and karose10. Thanks for the reviews, guys!_

-------------------------

**THE DAILY PLANET **

A cardboard box clutched in his hand, Jimmy made his way back to the bullpen. Other than Jacque's catering staff already setting up the tables for tonight's festivities, the newsroom itself was deserted. The staff had no doubt gone home to prepare for the party tonight.

Jimmy sighed. Even though Perry insisted the party go on as planned, he didn't feel at all like celebrating. Everything seemed so surreal. The shock was wearing off, but he still had difficulty understanding that Clark was gone. He was never coming to work again...he would never hear the sound of his voice...never see him again.

Clark had been such a good friend to him. He had mentored him, encouraged him, went to ball games with him, even taught him how to fish. Jimmy smiled weakly at the memory of Clark and Perry trying to teach him how to cast a line. They had spent the weekend together in Clark's hometown of Smallville. He had goofed up so bad trying to fish that he accidentally hooked Clark in the hand. Miraculously, the hook didn't break the skin, which made him feel better, but that didn't stop Perry from delivering a good, swift lecture about being careful. Even with Perry's tangent, it had been one of the happiest times Jimmy had shared with them.

Jimmy's insides twisted. He wanted to be sick. He could have asked Neal from the Sports section, or Kat from Gossip to clean out Clark's desk, but it just didn't feel right somehow. A friend should collect all of Clark's personal belongings, and Lois sure as hell wouldn't be doing it. Although he hadn't seen her since before Clark's death, Jimmy was sure it was affecting Chloe equally as much. Chloe had known him the longest out of any of them. She hadn't even shown up to work since it happened.

No, it had to be done and, unfortunately, he was the right person to do it. Perry was concerned that leaving his things out in the open for all to see would only darken the mood of tonight's gathering.

He picked up a framed photograph from the empty desk; it was the picture of Lois and Clark he had taken, posing with their Journalist Team of the Year Award after the ceremony. _How could it have come to this? _he thought bleakly. Lois and Clark had always been an indestructible team. Being a reporter meant taking chances, that much he knew, but somewhere inside he held on to that childish imagination that Lois and Clark would always come out on top. No matter what happened, no matter what kind of dangerous situation they found themselves in, they would always manage to find a way out. Never once had he considered the possibility that one of them might…get hurt.

He was sure Lois hadn't considered it either. She had looked to be in so much pain this morning. She hadn't responded to anyone except for Perry. Feebly, he wished he were a little older, maybe closer to her or Chloe's age. Perhaps if he were a bit older, more mature even, he would know how to console a friend in pain. For that matter, maybe he'd know how to console himself.

Jimmy reached for Clark's nameplate. He knew that life would go on, that he would come to work tomorrow and the _Daily Planet_ would proceed as usual. Perry would yell, Lois would have some snippy comeback, and Chloe would bury herself in research. Heck, he knew that eventually, time would heal everyone's hurts; but right now…right now…

-------------------------

Clark had not been prepared for what he found at the _Planet_. Jimmy was there, cleaning off "Clark's" desk. The kid's back had been to him when the Man of Steel first entered, but he turned around after Superman's speedy entrance caused a gust of wind that rattled pencil holders and sent wayward papers flying into the air.

His throat constricted when he saw his young friend. Jimmy looked terrible and Clark was staggered by the pain that radiated off of him. There was an unmistakable lethargy in his every move. _Like his best friend just died_, he thought miserably. He had known before that he was the cause of all this pain, but seeing it in person made it all the more real.

"Superman," Jimmy said softly, addressing his visitor. Normally Jimmy was so excited to see Superman he could barely talk straight. "I guess you heard about C.K. being murdered."

Clark uncrossed his arms. The heartbreak in Jimmy's voice was almost deafening. What could he possibly say? He didn't lie – not as Superman, anyway.

"I did, Jimmy," he said sympathetically, "and I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Jimmy said, trying to force a smile. "You can't be everywhere at once. Just catch the guys who did it, okay?"

"I'll do my best," he answered. "In fact, I came because Chloe said you had some information about Lois. Have you seen her?"

"No. She came to the office this morning but she seemed pretty upset. I've been trying to reach her but she hasn't answered her cell."

"Did she have any visitors this morning?" Superman asked, "Anyone who she might have told where she was going?"

Jimmy shook his head. "The only people she talked to were Perry and the Detective in charge of Clark's case."

"She didn't leave with the Detective?"

"No."

Superman thought for a moment. He was missing something – he could feel it.

Just then, the phone on Clark's desk began to ring. Jimmy picked it up and said without much enthusiasm, "_Daily Planet_. Jimmy Olson speaking."

Superman focused his super-hearing on the other voice, something he wouldn't normally have done except that the call had come in on _his _phone. Well, "Clark's" phone, anyway. On the other end of the line he heard Chloe's voice say, "Hey Jimmy, I need to talk to Superman. Is he there?"

A look of confusion crossed Jimmy's face before he apparently remembered that Superman had said Chloe sent him. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, "He's, uh, he's right in front of me."

Keeping his face neutral, Superman raised his eyebrows. He didn't want Jimmy thinking Chloe had any additional ties with him. Better to act surprised he was receiving a phone call.

"It's for you," Jimmy said, shrugging apologetically

Superman took the phone and set it to his ear. Jimmy couldn't help but stare. It was an odd sight, even though it shouldn't have been - Superman was on the telephone!

"What's up, Chloe?" he asked.

"This is exactly why you need a utility belt!" Chloe said hastily.

"Why? What have you found?"

"Well, for starters, I'm at Hamilton's apartment and I found Lois' press pass. Clark, she's been here! Lois doesn't go anywhere without her cell phone and her press pass. I think they got her."

"Cell phone…" Superman repeated thoughtfully. "Chloe that's it!"

"What?"

Superman turned to Jimmy. "Jimmy – do you have Lois' cell number?"

"Uh, yeah. I think Clark's got it on speed dial here. Why?"

He paused, thinking it through, then replied, "Do me a favor. Call it and keep calling it. I've got an idea."

Jimmy, not quite understanding but willing to do anything to help Superman out, shook his head. "You got it."

Chloe's voice crowed out of the receiver still in his hands, "Hello?! Superman!"

"Sorry, Chloe," he said quickly. In his excitement he had forgotten she was still there. "I've got an idea. I'll…"

"Hold it!" she cut him off. "I'm not done. You're not gonna believe what I found!"

"What do you mean?"

"I think I know how to bring Clark Kent back…"

--------------------

**THE CONSTRUCTION SITE: OUTSIDE METROPOLIS **

"Help! Help!" Lois shouted. Her wrists were becoming increasingly raw from her frenzied attempts to get free.

Wet cement was rapidly filling the trench; already it was up to their waists.

The Professor was nearly frantic with fear. To make matters worse, the aftereffects of Bonnie's perfume had left the Professor sneezing in between calls for help.

"Instead of DNA research you should have found a cure of allergies," Lois snapped.

He sneezed again.

For what seemed like the twentieth time, her cell phone sounded from somewhere above. Whoever was trying to call her wasn't giving up. It would have annoyed her if she hadn't been otherwise occupied with trying to stay alive.

------------------------

The city passed beneath Superman in a blur, only to be replaced by the dark countryside surrounding Metropolis. He had flown all around the city, listening for the telltale ringer of Lois' cell phone.

When he wasn't able to find any sign of her in the city, he rocketed toward the city limits, blasting his way around the entire city's perimeter. About five miles out of town, he heard it…

…_Whitesnake. _Her phone was playing Whitesnake. _She didn't change it._

Using his super-hearing he zoned in on the sound, following it until he hovered directly above an abandoned construction site.

-------------------------

The cement was already up to their heads when Lois heard a familiar _whoosh!_

_Superman!_

He spiraled downward from the sky, scooping both Lois and the Professor from the trench and their impending death without even landing.

"Are you all right?" he asked when they touched ground.

Lois landed on unsteady feet, heart still pounding from their near-death experience. She knew that she should be grateful for their rescue but, upon seeing Superman, a flood of mixed emotions threatened to overwhelm her and she bit her lower lip in an effort to keep herself together. She looked down at her trembling hands; unsure if whether or not her trembling was caused by the close brush with death or her sudden, and inexplicable anger toward Superman. She was furious at him and furious at her inability to remember what was important, especially when just a few moments ago she was about to become a permanent resident of a building's foundation.

Yes, Superman had saved her…but why hadn't he saved Clark? Where in the hell had _he_ been when her partner was shot? Did he just rescue damsels-in-distress? Ignore everybody else?

"Are you all right?" Superman asked again when she didn't answer.

Lois lowered her head, unwilling to meet his eyes. She was angry, frustrated at herself for being angry, and ashamed for being both. "Just a little stiff," she replied tersely.

If Superman noticed the derision in her voice, he didn't appear to show it. Tearing at their bonds like they were tissues, he freed them. "Be still," he said to both of them.

They obeyed. Superman disappeared, his body becoming a blur whirling around them. When he stopped, all of the cement was gone off of their bodies. _How in the hell did he do that?!_

Superman looked to Lois apologetically. "I'm sorry Miss Lane, but I can't take you home. There's something that I have to do. Do you think you could call a taxi?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," she answered.

Without another word he rocketed skyward. "Superman wait!" she cried, but it was too late. He was already miles away.

_Gone..._

"He's gone..." she uttered. Just speaking those words brought the horrors of the past few days to a screaming halt. In one solitary, painful moment the reality struck her. She was alone. Clark was gone, Superman was gone...and Perry and Jimmy and Chloe...they were all about to be gone. Forever.

Lois' knees buckled and she sank to the ground. It was all she could do to keep from collapsing. She felt tears welling in her eyes once more but they didn't fall. She was beyond tears. "I can't believe this is happening!" she cried, forty-eight hours of pent up grief and frustration spewing out of her. "First they take Clark away from me, now if Capone and his gang have their way I'll never see Perry or Jimmy or Chloe ever again! I can't believe this is happening!"

The Professor, who had remained respectfully silent, put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. She had almost forgotten he was there. "I can't tell you how sorry I am about your partner, Miss Lane. Believe me when I say, I would take it all back if I could."

Footsteps could be heard not far away. Lois tuned them out. Maybe it was a night watchman, or maybe Superman sent help after all. It didn't matter. All she could think about was how quickly her entire world had collapsed in just a few days.

She felt the Professor stiffen behind her as the footsteps drew closer and, only then, did she look up and see the figure approaching…

…Her heart dropped; her breath refused to move in and out. It seemed to have frozen in her lungs and she thought maybe she would stop breathing entirely. _It can't be..._

_Is it...? It can't be... It's impossible... But it has to be…_

Somehow she found her voice. "Clark?" she whispered. It was impossible. Unthinkable. Yet there he was, walking toward her. He stopped several yards away, a soft smile touching the corners of his mouth.

"Clark!" She couldn't stop herself from calling out his name.

Lois ran forward, wrapping him in a tight embrace, all but dissolving him in her arms. "Lois…" he whispered into her hair.

She didn't want to let go for fear he would disappear, but she had to look at him, make sure it was really _him_. She pulled away, unable to mask the joy in her expression. He was wearing the same suit he had been the night it happened. Three holes marked his jacket where the bullets had hit. She ran her fingers over them before looking up at his face.

Blue eyes stared back at her from behind familiar spectacles.

"It _is_ you!" she cried. She was almost frantic. "Clark! Clark - you're alive! I can't believe it! How is this possible?!"

Lois was practically jumping out of her skin. He kept his hands on her waist, a reminder that he was really flesh and blood, and began to explain. "Superman found me after they dumped my body. He froze me with his super breath to preserve my tissue. Then he took me to Dr. Hamilton's lab and followed the procedures in his manuscript."

"Of course!" the Professor cried. The little man was grinning like he had just found the cure for cancer. "Freezing the tissue means no permanent damage!"

Clark smiled, but his attention wasn't on the little scientist. His eyes were on Lois and Lois alone. Naked emotion hung in the air between them. He stared into her bottomless brown eyes, transfixed by the emotion he saw there. Had they really been so busy bickering and fighting that their pride hadn't allowed them to see what had been there all along? "It's as if I never died," he uttered.

Still unable to believe her eyes, Lois threw her arms around him again. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks now. "Oh Clark, I don't care if he used Krazy Glue, you're back!"

"Oh, Mr. Kent, I can't tell you how glad I am that you're alive!" the Professor exclaimed. "I mean, thank god my work has finally come to some good!"

"Your work!" Lois cried, her face contorting with dismay. "Clark! The _Planet_! We've got to warn them! Capone and his gang - they're gonna kill everybody at the party tonight!!"

"What?!"

"They're gonna kill everybody! We've got to get there! Fast! Call the police!"

"You two go on," the Professor said, "There's…uh…something I have to do."

Clark turned to Lois. "You go ahead. I'll meet you there."

"Oh no you don't!" she cried, grabbing his jacket by the collar. There was no way in hell she was going to let him pull one of his Clark-Kent-disappearing-acts on her tonight! "Don't even think about it! I'm not letting you out of my sight. Come on. We'll catch a taxi."


	17. Crashing the Party

_Super-thanks go to Freakk66, SamwiseAtHeart, karose10 & smallvillegirl92!_

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**THE DAILY PLANET **

The staff was calling it the _party-in-the-bullpen_. Perry had to admit, Jacques and his team had done an excellent job decorating. Other than the familiar desks and other miscellaneous office paraphernalia, he hardly recognized the place. _The Daily Planet cake sculpture is a bit much, though_, he thought dryly. The elegant buffet laden with every finger food imaginable was one thing, the massive cake fashioned to be an exact replica of the _Daily Planet_ building was something else entirely. A bit of overkill in his opinion, but his mind wasn't on the decorations or the food.

Perry pulled distractedly at his tie, wishing for the hundredth time that night that the dress code would have been "casual-nice." Although the party had not been labeled a black-tie event, the invitations had requested formal attire, and the bowtie was getting on his already frazzled nerves.

He pushed through the crowd of well-dressed staff members, fingering the note cards in his suit pocket as he did so. As Editor-n-Chief of the _Planet_ it was his job to kick off the party with a toast commemorating the success of the newspaper and the staff. He had worked on his speech all night, driving Alice crazy by taking his laptop with him to bed and, as Alice grumped, "staying up 'til all hours of the night."

His finished speech was a good one but, still, something felt…_wrong. _Especially in light of recent events.

He found Jimmy standing in front of his office, waiting for him with two crystal wine glasses in hand. The kid hadn't bothered changing his clothes and Perry knew that it was only by his urging that the Jimmy was even here tonight.

Perry took a wine glass from him and clapped him on the shoulder. "How you feelin' son?" he asked.

Jimmy shrugged. "I'll survive, Chief. I just want tonight to be over with."

Perry's expression softened. "I know you do, kid. Now go in my office and get a tie out of my closet and put it on."

Jimmy nodded. "Yes sir."

He returned a few minutes later wearing one of Perry's ties tucked neatly into his sweater.

"Much better," Perry said, smiling at him.

"Meester Vhite," Jacques said, approaching them. The executive coordinator had been more respectful as of late, knowing that Perry and a large portion of the staff had suffered a terrible loss. "It is time."

"Thank you, Jacques," he nodded curtly.

"I'll…uh…I'll give you a few minutes," Jimmy said, politely excusing himself.

Perry pulled his note cards from his pocket and read them over. They were so…empty.

From across the room, a clanging noise sounded as Jacques tapped a crystal goblet with a fork. That was his cue.

He glanced at his note cards again. Empty words.

_Aww, hell with empty words._

Raising his head, Perry stuffed the note cards back in his pocket and cleared his throat.

When Perry White cleared his throat, the entire bullpen fell silent.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could have your attention please," he said sternly. He eyed everyone in the crowd before continuing. "Now, usually this is the point where I go off singing the praises of the _Daily Planet_ and give everybody that warm, fuzzy feeling inside about how they work for the best newspaper in the world." He paused, for the polite smiles and lighthearted laughter, before continuing. "But, before that, I would like to take this time to remember a friend and co-worker. A man who was an inspiration to all of us here and who was one of the best damn reporters ever to have a byline on this newspaper."

Jimmy smiled sadly, touched by Perry's words.

"If everyone will raise their glasses, I'd like to make a toast…to Clark Kent."

Everyone in the room raised their glasses in response. "To Clark," several voices repeated.

For a moment, Perry and Jimmy made eye contact as they, too, raised their glasses…

…only to also share a look of surprise when the unmistakable roar of gunfire ripped through the room, causing men and woman alike to cry out and hit the floor.

Like the cunning and ruthless crime-boss he was, Al Capone strode into the bullpen, his team of gangsters flooding into the room behind him. Perry recognized Bonnie and Clyde among them, but there were several new faces that the editor could not identify as they fell into position on either side of the infamous Scarface, Tommy guns trained on the unarmed guests.

All around the room people raised their hands in surrender. Capone, in turn, raised his hands in greeting. He flashed his hostages a pleasant smile, one that was all the more frightening because it looked so friendly. "A splendid evenin' ta all'a you fine people here tonight," he said cheerily.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Perry snapped.

"Uh, Chief…" Jimmy whispered, eyeing the antique Thompson submachine guns. He had no doubt they still worked properly. "I'm not so sure that's such a good idea…"

"Ah, Mr. White. Nice ta see you again, too," Capone said smoothly. "It appears we have some unfinished business, you n' I."

Perry waved off Jimmy, taking a step forward as he did so. "Listen, your quarrel is with me, not with any of these people."

"Back off, old timer!" Clyde snapped, giving Perry a shove.

Jimmy rushed forward to catch the Chief before he fell. He glared angrily at Clyde, not bothering to mask his contempt. Instead, he let his voice drip with it as he spat, "You're the one who killed C.K."

The accusation bounced right off the criminal. "Shut up, kid!" Clyde snapped, aiming his Tommy gun directly at him.

Jimmy recalled everything, from Lois' description of the murderer to Detective Wolfe's assessment. There was no doubt. He stared at him defiantly, then shouted, "Hey, everybody! This is the guy who killed Clark!"

"I said shut up!" Clyde roared, using the butt of the Tommy gun to slam Jimmy right in the face.

Jimmy hit the floor, Perry immediately at his side. Cries of horror and fright passed through the crowd.

-------------------------

Downstairs, Lois and Clark hit the revolving doors of the _Daily Planet_ at top speed and raced inside. The lobby was deserted, everyone no doubt attending the celebration upstairs.

Lois hoped desperately that they had made it in time. The limo belonging to Capone and his gang was parked outside on the curb.

"You call the police!" Clark shouted to her. "I'll meet you upstairs!"

She didn't argue, for which Clark was grateful. He had wasted precious time taking a cab with her instead of flying, but she hadn't given him much of a choice.

Lois veered toward the receptionist desk and picked up the phone, even as Clark sprinted past her.

He looked up, focusing his eyes until the ceiling melted away. Capone and his thugs were already in the newsroom, surrounding the innocent staff members. Clark scanned the crowd. It didn't look like anyone had been injured…_no! Wait! Jimmy's down!_

Clark's heart skipped a beat. There was no time to take the elevator. He took the stairs, vanishing from sight as soon as Lois looked away, loosening his tie and ripping off his glasses.

-------------------------

"This isn't 1940, Capone," Perry said rigidly. He checked Jimmy over, making sure the kid wasn't seriously injured. There was a good sized gash above his left eye, a thin line of blood trickling down the side of his face, but other than that it looked like it would be nothing more than one hell of a black eye in the morning. "The police are probably already downstairs in the lobby. Don't make things worse for yourself."

Capone was enjoying himself. "The only person things are gonna get worse for is you, Chief."

-------------------------

Clark supersped up the stairs, dressed in his Superman outfit when he burst through the door. He took in everything in just a few seconds…Capone and his thugs with guns raised, holding his friends and co-workers at gunpoint…Perry standing protectively in front of Jimmy…Jimmy holding his eye, a small amount of blood seeping through his fingers.

"The only person things are gonna get worse for is you, Chief," he heard Capone say. The Chicago kingpin made a motion with his hand and suddenly all five gang members were firing into the crowd.

"Capone! No!" he shouted.

-------------------------

They were going to die. Perry had always expected to die young, but he joked that when he did kick the bucket it would be from stress.

He pushed Jimmy behind him, intending to shield the young man with his own body if he had to. Common sense told him it would do no good, but damn it – if he was going down, he was going down trying to protect those he cared about. He found himself thinking of Alice, how they would never grow old together, and how he would never see his kids or grandchildren again. He thought of the lives and families of every staff member of the _Planet_. He even thought of Lois and Chloe, and how thankful he was that they were not here to share this fate.

The gangsters opened fire, the thunderous report of five Thompson submachine guns completely drowning out the terrified shrieks of the panicking crowd.

Perry shut his eyes and wished fervently he could shut his ears. He didn't want to die with the screams of his staff echoing in his memory.

It was as if time slowed down. Someone yelled, "Capone! No!" There was a gust of wind and then…nothing.

-------------------------

It happened too fast for anybody to see. Superman leapt into action, speeding in front of the bullets and plucking them out of the air as if they were standing still.

The hail of gunfire continued for a full minute longer before the bewildered gangsters ceased fire out of sheer unbelief.

Not a single person had fallen!

Most of the crowd had involuntarily taken a step back, feeling the wind but not quite understanding what just happened.

Perry opened his eyes, confused. _Why wasn't he dead? Why weren't any of them dead?_

His answer was evident when the smoke cleared. Superman.

The Man of Steel seemed to appear out of nowhere, standing like a barrier in front of them, his fists balled at his sides.

"You again?" Clyde spat.

Superman shifted his baleful gaze to the man-in-charge. "Looking for these?" he asked darkly. He opened his fists, allowing the captured bullets to clatter to the floor.

It was enough to make the gangsters panic. Joey and the two nameless thugs threw down their guns and bolted. Superman let them, knowing they wouldn't get far, courtesy of the police Lois had called who were already outside. Only Capone, Bonnie and Clyde remained.

Superman focused his heat-vision on the weapons of the remaining gangsters. Bonnie squealed the same time Clyde cursed as the antique metal heated up in less than a second, burning their hands.

"Grab them! Grab them!" Perry cried. At the sound of the Editor-n-Chief's voice, the bullpen erupted in chaos. A few brave men and women surged forward to apprehend the fleeing gangsters; the rest either hit the deck, dove for cover, or stampeded through the glass doors to the nearest exit.

Ignoring his fear-crazed co-workers, Jimmy lunged forward, grabbing Clyde by the back of the shirt as he tried to escape. He whirled the bigger man around, punching him hard in the face.

Jimmy frightened himself with his own vehemence as he slammed into Clyde, sending the gangster crashing into a table. "That's for C.K.!" he bellowed.

-------------------------

Unceremoniously leaving his henchmen behind, Alphonse Gabriel Capone, the most highly feared and ruthless crime lord of the American Dry Era, turned and fled through the fire escape.

A small smile touched the corners of Superman's mouth as he watched the Chicago kingpin flee. Then, just like that, the Man of Steel was gone.

-------------------------

Lois fought her way through the crowd of fleeing people and burst into the bullpen just in time to see Bonnie Parker's pretty little face heading for the exit.

"Not so fast!" Lois cried, eagerly grabbing a handful of Bonnie's hair.

"Hey!" Bonnie protested. She took a swing at the other woman, the blow not even coming close to connecting because Lois had nimbly ducked beneath it and came up with punch of her own.

Bonnie reeled from the blow, her eyes flashing angrily when she recovered and tried again. This time Lois sidestepped the attempt and jumped onto her opponent's back.

"That ain't very lady-like!" Bonnie cried, trying to use her fists to get at the piggybacking nuisance.

Lois couldn't help but leer at her. "Yeah, well, I'm a woman of the 21st century and as far as I'm concerned, you're not much of a lady," she snapped back.

-------------------------

Capone slid down the final ladder of the fire escape and took off down the alley. _I still got it! _he thought proudly. This wasn't the first racket gone sour. There was no shame in bailing on a gig, so long as you had enough air in your lungs to start over somewhere else.

His mind immediately began picking up the pieces of tonight's disaster. He could hide out for a while, maybe do some thinking at his retreat in Palm Island, Florida. He'd have to bump off the current tenants, of course.

Capone wasted no time making his way to the rendezvous point where the newly "born" Babyface Nelson was positioned with their getaway car. He allowed himself a tight smile; it was bad business to not have a backup plan. Pity he hadn't bothered to share his last-minute getaway policy with Bonnie and Clyde.

He rounded the last corner, expecting to see Babyface already in the driver's seat and ready to roll…

…only to see the car empty, the driver's side door open, and Babyface nowhere in sight.

"Boss! Up here!" cried a frantic voice.

Capone looked up. His jaw dropped.

There, hung on a flagpole by his suit jacket, Babyface dangled above the pavement. "Help me! Boss, help me!" he begged.

-------------------------

Bonnie twisted, trying to shake Lois off her back, but her high heels couldn't take the additional weight any longer. The combatants fell over a chair and tumbled into one of the buffet tables, sending plates, silverware, and food trays scattering to the floor.

Bonnie fell headfirst into the ridiculously large cake shaped like the _Daily Planet _building. It was just the distraction Lois needed. Pulling herself out of a shrimp platter, she threw herself at the female gangster. A tug of the hair, a punch to the face, and Bonnie Parker was out cold. "That's for pulling the lever on the cement mixer," she huffed, dropping Bonnie's unconscious body back into the cake.

-------------------------

Common sense told him it wasn't possible – that there was no way in hell Babyface could be hanging up on a flagpole like yesterday's laundry. But common sense also agreed that when people get shot with bullets, they die.

"Ta' hell with this!" Capone cried, dashing for the car. _Forget Metropolis! I'm goin' back 'ta Chicago! Where people are normal!!_

"Boss! Wait!" Babyface cried. Then, "Boss! Look out!"

And suddenly, Capone wasn't on the ground anymore…

…he was dangling above the pavement.

"Alcatraz is closed, Capone. But I'm sure they'll find something nice for you," Superman said cheerily.

-------------------------

_**A/N:**__ I know that I said this would be the last chapter, but I was wrong. I wasn't able to fit everything in here that I wanted to so there will be at least one more. Thanks again to all of my super-reviewers!_


	18. Back to Normal

_Here it is! The final chapter! Thank you to SamwiseAtHeart, Freakk66, batfan7, Dmik33, smallvillegirl92, and karose10. Couldn't have done it without you guys – really!! This is it! I hope ya'll enjoy it!_

-------------------------

**THE DAILY PLANET **

_Damn him. He disappeared again! _Lois thought irritably. She scanned the crowd for Clark. As usual, her partner was nowhere to be seen. She passed a police officer, handcuffing a still-woozy Clyde Barrow. She stopped and watched them, noting that Clyde now sported a nasty black eye. _That _hadn't been there last time she saw him. "You have the right to remain silent," the officer intoned as he led the prisoner away, "If you give up that right anything you say may be…"

_So that's it_, she thought silently. She watched the officer until he disappeared through the shattered glass doors, Clyde with him, and sighed. The fight was over, her partner was alive, and all the bad guys had been arrested…so why did she still feel so…unsatisfied?

_I know why, damn it. Why does my life have to be so freaking complicated!_

She spotted Perry and Jimmy being questioned by Detective Wolfe and pushed her way through the crowd to get to them.

"Perry! Jimmy! I'm so happy to see you alive!" she cried, throwing her arms around them both.

Perry returned her embrace with equal enthusiasm. "Lois! Honey! Where you been?"

"You missed the action," Jimmy added somberly.

"It's a long story and I'll have to tell you later, but have you guys seen Clark?"

At the mention of his name, Perry and Jimmy exchanged worried looks.

"What?" she asked when they both looked at her like she had lost her mind.

Perry spoke gently, taking her hands in his. "Now, Lois…you've been through a horrible ordeal. We all have…"

Jimmy nodded supportively.

"…but Clark is gone, honey."

She looked confused. "What?" Then, she remembered. "Oh, you think Clark's dead."

Perry's eyebrows furrowed in even deeper concern. "Clark _is_ dead, honey," he said slowly.

"I don't know about that, Chief."

Perry's head snapped up. He could have sworn he just heard…

"C.K.!" Jimmy cried. The kid sprang forward and pummeled the man who was suddenly standing right behind Lois in a fierce hug.

It was Clark. Jimmy…Jimmy was hugging Clark.

The Chief shook his head in disbelief. This was impossible. Clark was dead.

The all-too familiar face of Clark Kent laughed at what must have been Perry's utterly shocked expression.

"What…I mean, how…?" Perry stuttered when he finally found his voice. He couldn't believe his eyes. Clark was alive!! And was standing right in front of them!!

"Good to see you, too, Chief," Clark smiled, embracing him.

"How is this possible?" the older man asked breathlessly.

"It's a long story," Lois replied, looking up at her partner.

Perry glanced at his watch. It would probably be a at least another hour before the MPD finished questioning the rest of the staff and let everybody go home. "Well, we got time. This party ain't over, yet."

-------------------------

_An hour later…._

The elevator door opened and the four of them stepped out into the main lobby.

"Wow, that's an incredible story!" Jimmy exclaimed.

Perry laid a hand on Clark's shoulder, "It's good to have you back, kid."

"Mr. Kent! Miss Lane!" a voice cried.

The four of them turned to see a very disheveled, and not to mention, very dirty looking Professor Emil Hamilton come running inside. Chloe followed him at the heels, car keys still in hand.

"Mr. Kent! Miss Lane! I'm so glad I found you!" the Professor cried breathlessly.

"Clark!" Chloe cried, throwing her arms around him. It was just a show of course, but she was genuinely glad to see her friend back in his element. _He's back where he belongs_, she thought happily. "The Professor told me everything," she supplied. She turned so that only Clark could see the wink she sent him. "It's good to have you back."

"Professor Hamilton, what happened?" Lois asked, taking in his disheveled appearance with confusion.

The little man beamed. "I burned down my lab. Destroyed all my research."

"Well that explains the soot," Clark replied, "But why? I mean, your research _did _help bring me back."

The Professor shrugged. "And for that, I'm truly grateful. But I realized that playing around with life and death...well, those things are better left to God and nature."

"Glad to hear it," Clark said, shaking his hand.

"Excuse me," Detective Wolfe interrupted. "Professor Email Hamilton?"

"Yes."

"Detective Wolfe, Homicide. If you don't mind, we'd like to ask you a few questions," he said. "Actually, a LOT of questions."

Hamilton agreed. "As long as it's not about DNA, I'm all yours!"

"We appreciate it. Follow Deputy Kendall here and he'll take you to where you can make a statement," he said, indicating to the officer behind him.

When the little man had gone, Lois turned to the Detective. "You're not going to press charges against him, are you?"

Detective Wolfe snorted. "For error in judgment? Nah, especially if he cooperates. His testimony could put Capone and the rest of his thugs behind bars."

"Were you able to catch the ones who got away?" Jimmy asked.

Perry smirked. "I'm surprised you even _noticed _that a couple of them got away."

"Yeah, I guess I was…uh…a little preoccupied," Jimmy said, blushing.

Clark laughed aloud before putting his arm around the young man. "I heard you knocked Barrow out cold."

"You should have seen him!" Perry cheered.

"You got guts, kid," the Detective said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, it seems that Dillinger's already got a lawyer and he's wanting to testify against Capone."

"Thanks for your help, Detective," Clark said, extending his hand.

Wolfe eyed him, amused, before shaking it. "You know, you're my first homicide case that ever solved itself."

Clark laughed. "Thanks again."

"I still don't understand something," Lois said, turning her attention to her partner. "How did Superman know where to go? I mean, you were shot the day before we even discovered where Hamilton's apartment was. How did he know where to take you after he found your body?"

Clark opened his mouth, then shut it. "Uhhh..."

"I told him," Chloe jumped in, covering for him. Beside her, Clark breathed a sigh of relief, which she noted with no small amount of satisfaction. "After he found Clark's body, Superman came to tell me that Clark was gone and that he had preserved the body for an autopsy. At that point the police were baffled, you were missing, and Superman didn't know where to start looking for Capone and his gang, so I agreed to help him. I found the Professor's lab when I went searching for you."

"But how did you get the Professor's address?" Lois quipped.

Chloe didn't miss a beat. "Superman caught Dillinger and _somehow_ got him to slip it."

Nobody noticed, but Clark turned a shade of red.

Lois continued, "So you were at the lab when…"

"…when Hamilton burned it down, yes," Chloe finished for her.

"The rest is history," Clark interjected. Yawning, he draped an arm around both the girl's shoulders. "I don't know about you ladies, but I'm beat. Being dead really takes a lot out of you."

Lois swatted him in the chest.

"Ow!" he protested.

"Oh, can it Smallville. That didn't hurt."

"Yes it did."

"No it didn't!"

Chloe leaned her head on his shoulder and grinned up at him. "Isn't it nice to back?"

Amused, Perry watched Lois and Clark's repartee. "Well, it looks like things are back to normal," he said. He turned to Jimmy. "Come on kid, I'll give you a ride home."

"I'll see you tomorrow, C.K.?" Jimmy asked.

Clark couldn't help but smile at the obvious hopefulness in his young friend's eyes and voice. "Yep," he answered, patting Jimmy's shoulder. "Tomorrow."

"All right! Ya know, I never thought I'd get to say that again. We'll see you guys tomorrow," Jimmy said, waving goodbye to the three of them.

"Tomorrow morning, eight AM, Kent," Perry ordered. "I want your story on the front-page and I want it on my desk by noon. Got it?"

"Got it, Chief."

With that, Perry and Jimmy both left.

Lois turned to her friends. "You guys want a lift home?"

"Thanks, but I drove," Chloe answered.

"Clark?"

He yawned again. "Yeah, sure."

-------------------------

**THE CAR**

Clark yawned again.

Lois glanced at her partner, noting the fatigue and exhaustion that painted his every feature. She knew she probably looked just as ragged.

Clark was having difficulty keeping his eyes open. It was cute, really, watching him rub his eyes without taking off his glasses and then blink slowly to refocus. She thought she saw him glance a couple times in her direction, but when she turned her head away from the road he was always looking away.

_I wonder if he's as nervous as I am_, she thought.

She never thought she would be nervous around Clark. It was Clark, for heaven's sake! He was practically her brother! There wasn't anything she couldn't tell Clark. But if there was one thing that losing him had done for her, it was realize just how important he was to her. Her life had literally been ripped out from under her like someone pulling a rug from beneath her feet.

How had he done it? How had he wormed his way into her soul without her ever knowing it? She had to admit, Lois Lane could not be an easy person to get to know – lack of practice on her part – and she tended to distance herself from casual friendships. She was face-paced, independent, and a loner at heart. So how had he done it? Clark, overprotective, overly sensitive, considerate, annoyingly nice Clark. Clark with his quiet strength and eyes that could see into her soul. Clark who she could share pizza and beer with on a Friday night after a long day of work. Clark whose personality was polar opposite from hers.

_Opposites attract, I guess._

But where did Superman fall into all of this? Lois bit her lower lip, glad that she and Clark were comfortable enough driving in silence after the events of the past three days. She sooooo needed to think.

As much as she hated to admit it, Superman was just an obsession. Superman belonged to the world, not to one woman. Maybe that was why he always held himself aloof from her. Sure, he was always there when she needed rescuing, but now that she thought about it, so was Clark. Hell, if her life were in danger, Superman would fly from out of nowhere and scoop her out of harms way but, once Superman flew off, it was _Clark_ who rushed her to safety and never left her side until he knew she was all right.

She shook her head to clear it. Lois Lane, star reporter, followed her instinct when it came to life. Instinct came naturally. Instinct she could handle. Now it was time to follow her heart.

…_here goes nothing…_.

"Clark?" she said softly.

"Yeah, Lois," he replied.

She swallowed. "When I thought you were gone…I did some thinking about my life. You know, what it would be like without you in it." She laughed lightly to ease the tension. "I know what you're thinking, 'Gee, Lois, how self-centered can you be?' But hear me out. I know our relationship has always been…difficult to define. But, when I thought about how much I missed you…how much I was going to miss you for the rest of my life…well, I started to think…maybe there's more to our relationship than just friendship..."

**THE END**

-------------------------

_**A/N: **__I'm sorry to drop it off like that, but I prefer this ending to the ending in the actual episode. For those of you who have never seen 'That Old Gang of Mine', after Lois swallows her pride and pours her heart out to Clark, she looks over to find him fast asleep. He hadn't heard a word!! I hated that! The poor girl! It was no wonder she didn't try again! _

_Anyways, __THANK YOU SO MUCH__ to everyone for reading my story! Your reviews kept me going and gave me the encouragement I needed to finish it. (I have a terrible habit of starting stories and then never finishing them.) It has been a blast writing this. I hate asking, but if you have followed my story and never left a review, would you consider leaving one for the last chapter? Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top?_


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